Beauties of the British Poets ...Phillips, 1850 - 395 sider |
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Side 36
... " Thou damned wight , The author of this fact we here behold , What justice can but judge against thee right , With thine own blood to price his blood , here shed in sight ? " " What frantic fit , " quoth he , " 36 SPENCER .
... " Thou damned wight , The author of this fact we here behold , What justice can but judge against thee right , With thine own blood to price his blood , here shed in sight ? " " What frantic fit , " quoth he , " 36 SPENCER .
Side 37
... Thee , foolish man , so rash a doom to give ? What justice ever other judgment taught , But he should die who merits not to live ? None else to death this man despairing drove , But his own guilty mind deserving death . Is't then unjust ...
... Thee , foolish man , so rash a doom to give ? What justice ever other judgment taught , But he should die who merits not to live ? None else to death this man despairing drove , But his own guilty mind deserving death . Is't then unjust ...
Side 39
... thee ? Is't not enough , that to this lady mild Thou falsed hast thy faith with perjury , And sold thyself to serve Duessa vile , With whom in all abuse thou hast thyself defiled ? " Is not he just that all this doth behold SPENCER . 39.
... thee ? Is't not enough , that to this lady mild Thou falsed hast thy faith with perjury , And sold thyself to serve Duessa vile , With whom in all abuse thou hast thyself defiled ? " Is not he just that all this doth behold SPENCER . 39.
Side 45
... thee un'wares devour . But standing high aloft , low lay thine ear , And there such ghastly noise of iron chains , And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear , Which thousand spirits , with long enduring pains , Do toss , that will ...
... thee un'wares devour . But standing high aloft , low lay thine ear , And there such ghastly noise of iron chains , And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear , Which thousand spirits , with long enduring pains , Do toss , that will ...
Side 49
... thee : friend hast thou none ; For thy own bowels , which do call thee sire , The mere effusion of thy proper loins , Do curse the gout , serpigo , and the rheum , Forending thee no sooner : thou hast nor youth , nor age ; But , as it ...
... thee : friend hast thou none ; For thy own bowels , which do call thee sire , The mere effusion of thy proper loins , Do curse the gout , serpigo , and the rheum , Forending thee no sooner : thou hast nor youth , nor age ; But , as it ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
beauty beneath blessed blest bliss bosom bowers breast breath bright brow charms cheerful clouds crown dark dead dear death deep delight Deloraine doth dread e'en earth eternal eyes fair fame Farewell fear fire flowers folding star grace grave Greece grief hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hills honour hope hour infant sorrow labour land light lisp look Lord Lycidas lyre maid mar delights mind morn murmurs Muse ne'er Nebaioth never night nymph o'er once pain pale peace pleasure praise pride raptures rill rise round roundheaded Samian wine scene shade shed shore sigh silent skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit storm strain sugh sweet Sweet Auburn sweet oblivion tears tempests thee thine thou art thought toil Twas vale voice wandering wave weary weep wild wind wings wretched younkers youth
Populære passager
Side 342 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry Fays...
Side 315 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, - alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.
Side 78 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks; Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Side 127 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Side 137 - 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.
Side 51 - To die — to sleep. To sleep — perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time...
Side 165 - But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And...
Side 68 - But hail! thou Goddess sage and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended.
Side 138 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Side 63 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.