Anthologia Anglica, a new selection from the English poets from Spenser to Shelley, with short literary notices by H. Williams |
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Side xv
... Spring , A Child of Shakespeare 64 Scott 353 Shelley 442 · Byron Sylvester . Byron 386 115 402 · Milton • · • Shelley 204 449 • Thomson . 247 Wordsworth 340 Spring , Advent of Spring , A Herald of Spring , Approach of . Spring Flowers ...
... Spring , A Child of Shakespeare 64 Scott 353 Shelley 442 · Byron Sylvester . Byron 386 115 402 · Milton • · • Shelley 204 449 • Thomson . 247 Wordsworth 340 Spring , Advent of Spring , A Herald of Spring , Approach of . Spring Flowers ...
Side 6
... spring ; No branch whereon a fine bird did not sit ; No bird but did her shrill notes sweetly sing ; No song but did contain a lovely ditt . Trees , branches , birds , and songs , were framed fit For to allure frail mind to careless ...
... spring ; No branch whereon a fine bird did not sit ; No bird but did her shrill notes sweetly sing ; No song but did contain a lovely ditt . Trees , branches , birds , and songs , were framed fit For to allure frail mind to careless ...
Side 7
Anthologia Anglica Howard Williams. They spring , they bud , they blossom fresh and fair , And deck the world with their rich pompous shows ; Yet no man for them taketh pains or care , Yet no man to them can his careful pains compare ...
Anthologia Anglica Howard Williams. They spring , they bud , they blossom fresh and fair , And deck the world with their rich pompous shows ; Yet no man for them taketh pains or care , Yet no man to them can his careful pains compare ...
Side 21
... spring break forth out of his lusty bowers , See the probable original in the beautiful opening verses of the De Rerum Naturâ of Lucretius : Te , dea , te fugiunt venti , te nubila cœli , Adventumque tuum tibi suavis dædala tellus ...
... spring break forth out of his lusty bowers , See the probable original in the beautiful opening verses of the De Rerum Naturâ of Lucretius : Te , dea , te fugiunt venti , te nubila cœli , Adventumque tuum tibi suavis dædala tellus ...
Side 27
... springs from the sky ; Fair Ister , flowing from the mountains high ; Divine Scamander , purpled yet with blood Of Greeks and Trojans which therein did die ; Pactolus glistering with his golden flood : And Tigris fierce , whose streams ...
... springs from the sky ; Fair Ister , flowing from the mountains high ; Divine Scamander , purpled yet with blood Of Greeks and Trojans which therein did die ; Pactolus glistering with his golden flood : And Tigris fierce , whose streams ...
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Anthologia Anglica, a New Selection from the English Poets from Spenser to ... Anthologia Anglica Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2019 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Author beauty behold beneath birds blood bower breast breath bright CATHERINE WINKWORTH charming clouds Comus Crown 8vo dark death deep delight divine doth dream e'en earth Edition English English poetry eternal eyes Faery Queen fair Faithful Shepherdess fame fancy fear flowers gaze genius gentle Giaour golden grace green groves hath hear heart heaven heavenly HISTORY JOHN STUART MILL JOHN TYNDALL King light live Lord melody Midsummer Night's Dream moon morn mortal mountain muse nature Nature's never night nymph o'er pain Paradise Paradise Lost passion pleasure poem poet poetic poetry Post 8vo Prometheus Unbound PUBLISHED BY LONGMANS Queen Queen Mab revised round scene seem'd shade sight sing sleep smiles soft song soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee thine thou art thought verse voice vols wave wild wind wings Woodcuts woods
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Side 58 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Side 34 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Side 280 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
Side 163 - Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine...
Side 432 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night ; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again.
Side 143 - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings And the night-raven sings ; There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Side 215 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Side 76 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair and wise is she ; The heaven such grace did lend her That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair ? for beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling ; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling ; To her let us garlands bring.
Side 277 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Side 32 - All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them not laboriously, but luckily. When he describes anything, you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning give him the greater commendation. He was naturally learned. He needed not the spectacles of books to read nature. He looked inwards, and found her there.