The Works of the British Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical ...Robert Anderson Arch, 1795 |
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Side 28
... Unto this knowledge to afpire , That this her Fever might be it ? And yet she cannot waste by this , Nor long endure this torturing wrong , For more corruption needful is To fuel fuch a fever long . These burning fits but meteors be ...
... Unto this knowledge to afpire , That this her Fever might be it ? And yet she cannot waste by this , Nor long endure this torturing wrong , For more corruption needful is To fuel fuch a fever long . These burning fits but meteors be ...
Side 36
... unto the fchifmatics Of Amfterdam ; my best civility And courtship to an univerfity : My modefty I give to foldiers bare ; My patience let gamefter's fhare . Thou , Love taught'ft me , by making me Love her that holds my love disparity ...
... unto the fchifmatics Of Amfterdam ; my best civility And courtship to an univerfity : My modefty I give to foldiers bare ; My patience let gamefter's fhare . Thou , Love taught'ft me , by making me Love her that holds my love disparity ...
Side 42
... unto you bear , Which daughters , wives , and mothers , are of kings , What honour can unto that queen be done Who had your God for father , fpouse , and fon ? SINCE Chrift embrac'd the Cross itself , dare I , His image , th ' image of ...
... unto you bear , Which daughters , wives , and mothers , are of kings , What honour can unto that queen be done Who had your God for father , fpouse , and fon ? SINCE Chrift embrac'd the Cross itself , dare I , His image , th ' image of ...
Side 45
... unto you . Nor thou , nor thy religion , doft controul The. Could I behold that endless height which is Zenith to us and our antipodes , Humbled below us ? or that blood , which is The feat of all our fouls , if not of his , Made dirt of ...
... unto you . Nor thou , nor thy religion , doft controul The. Could I behold that endless height which is Zenith to us and our antipodes , Humbled below us ? or that blood , which is The feat of all our fouls , if not of his , Made dirt of ...
Side 48
... unto our spouse and King More hoarfe , more harsh , than any other , fing ? For that we pray , we praise thy name for this , Which by this Mofes and this Miriam is Already done ; and , as those Pfalms we call ( Though fome have other ...
... unto our spouse and King More hoarfe , more harsh , than any other , fing ? For that we pray , we praise thy name for this , Which by this Mofes and this Miriam is Already done ; and , as those Pfalms we call ( Though fome have other ...
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againſt beauty becauſe beft beſt blood breaft caft caufe cauſe courſe death defire doft doth earth elfe eyes fafe faid fair fame fcorn fear feek feem feem'd feen fenfe fhall fhame fhepherd fhew fhine fhould fide fighs fight filk filver fince fing fire firft firſt flain fleep fome fong foon forrow foul fpirits fpring ftand ftate ftill ftreams ftrong fuch fure fwain fweet glory grace grief hand hath heart heav'n himſelf honour itſelf king laft laſt lefs light live loft Lord lov'd moft moſt mufe muft muſt never night nymphs pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe prefent reft rife ſhall ſhe ſpeak ſpent ſtand ſtate ſtay ſtill ſuch ſweet tears thee thefe themſelves theſe thine things thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand unto uſe verfe virtue Whilft whofe whoſe worfe
Populære passager
Side 537 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Side 536 - While we can, the sports of love. Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain. Suns that set may rise again: But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Side 590 - IF I freely may discover What would please me in my lover, I would have her fair and witty, Savouring more of court than city ; A little proud, but full of pity ; Light and humorous in her toying ; Oft...
Side 533 - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further to make thee a room; Thou art a monument, without a tomb, And art alive still, while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
Side 33 - When my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain (For graves have learned that womanhead To be to more than one a bed), And he that digs it spies A bracelet of bright hair about the bone...
Side 543 - No, Both wills were in one stature ; And as that wisdom had decreed, The Word was now made Flesh indeed, And took on him our nature. What comfort by Him do we win, Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of Glory ! To see this babe, all innocence, A martyr born in our defence : Can man forget this...
Side 590 - Though I am young and cannot tell Either what Death or Love is well, Yet, I have heard they both bear darts, And both do aim at human hearts : And then again, I have been told, Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold ; So that I fear they do but bring Extremes to touch, and mean one thing. As in a ruin we it call One thing to be blown up or fall ; Or to our end, like way may have By...
Side 30 - To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.
Side 23 - Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late schoolboys and sour prentices; Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices; Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Side 518 - Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. O, could I lose all father, now! For why Will man lament the state he should envy? To have so soon 'scaped world's and flesh's rage, And, if no other misery, yet age! Rest in soft peace; and, asked, say: Here doth lie Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry...