A Poetry-book of Elder Poets: Consisting of Songs & Sonnets, Odes & Lyrics, Selected and Arranged, with Notes, from the Works of the Elder English Poets, Dating from the Beginning of the Fourteenth Century to the Middle of the Eighteenth CenturyB. Tauchnitz, 1878 - 298 sider |
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Side 37
... crown'd with vocal reeds ! That strain I heard was of a higher mood : But now my oat proceeds , And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune's plea ; He ask'd the waves , and ask'd the felon winds , What hard mishap hath ...
... crown'd with vocal reeds ! That strain I heard was of a higher mood : But now my oat proceeds , And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune's plea ; He ask'd the waves , and ask'd the felon winds , What hard mishap hath ...
Side 51
... crown : Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent : The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown . Such sweet content , such minds , such sleep , such bliss , Beggars enjoy , when princes oft do miss . The homely house that ...
... crown : Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent : The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown . Such sweet content , such minds , such sleep , such bliss , Beggars enjoy , when princes oft do miss . The homely house that ...
Side 62
... crown Must tumble down , And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade . Some men with swords may reap the field , And plant with laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield , They tame ...
... crown Must tumble down , And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade . Some men with swords may reap the field , And plant with laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield , They tame ...
Side 87
... wood so green , Unheard , unsought for , or unseen , A thousand pleasures do me bless , And crown my soul with happiness . All my joys besides are folly ; None so sweet as melancholy . 87 88 ON MELANCHOLY . 4 . When I lie , On Melancholy.
... wood so green , Unheard , unsought for , or unseen , A thousand pleasures do me bless , And crown my soul with happiness . All my joys besides are folly ; None so sweet as melancholy . 87 88 ON MELANCHOLY . 4 . When I lie , On Melancholy.
Side 91
... Crowns may flourish and decay , Beauties shine , but fade away . Youth may revel , yet it must Lie down in a bed of dust . Earthly honours flow and waste , Time alone doth change and last . Sorrows mingled with contents , prepare Rest ...
... Crowns may flourish and decay , Beauties shine , but fade away . Youth may revel , yet it must Lie down in a bed of dust . Earthly honours flow and waste , Time alone doth change and last . Sorrows mingled with contents , prepare Rest ...
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A Poetry-Book of Elder Poets, Consisting of Songs & Sonnets, Odes & Lyrics ... Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2016 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
ALEXANDER SELKIRK AULD ROBIN GRAY BATTLE OF AGINCOURT Beaumont beauty birds Blake breath bright CHRIST'S NATIVITY crown dear death doth Dunfermline town earth Edward Elder Poets ELEGY ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA Eurydice eyes fair fairy fear Fletcher flower golden good-morrow grave green grief grove hand hast hath hear heart heaven Helen honour INVERMAY King Kirconnell kiss ladies light Line live Lord LOVE'S LOVER Lycidas lyre Milton moon MORNING OF CHRIST'S Mother Muse Nanny ne'er never night nightingale Noroway notes numbers nymph o'er Osiris pain PATRICK SPENCE Phillida flouts Philomela pleasure poem praise Procne rose sad cypress Sally shade Shakespeare shepherds shine sing SIR PATRICK SPENCE sleep smiling SONG sorrow soul sound spring stream swain sweet tears tell Tereus Thammuz thee things tree unto Verse voice wanton weep wilt thou winds wings Yarrow youth
Populære passager
Side 39 - But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Side 85 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ? Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek.
Side 19 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...
Side 73 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Side 139 - Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Side 117 - When Love with unconfine'd wings Hovers within my Gates ; And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the Grates : When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye ; The Birds, that wanton in the Air, Know no such Liberty.
Side 272 - tis said) Before was never made But when of old the Sons of Morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung ; And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.
Side 37 - When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Side 274 - The lonely mountains o'er And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting Genius is with sighing sent ; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Side 211 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high. His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. " Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove ; Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.