English poetry, for use in the schools of the Collegiate institution, Liverpool [ed. by W. J. Conybeare].1844 |
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Side 7
... say - To - morrow is saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve , and shew his scars . Old men forget : yet all shall be forgot , But they'll remember , with advantages , What feats they did that day . Then shall our names ...
... say - To - morrow is saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve , and shew his scars . Old men forget : yet all shall be forgot , But they'll remember , with advantages , What feats they did that day . Then shall our names ...
Side 9
... says he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man . He hath brought many captives home to Rome , Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill . Did this , in Cæsar , seem ambitious ? When that the poor have cried , Cæsar hath wept ...
... says he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man . He hath brought many captives home to Rome , Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill . Did this , in Cæsar , seem ambitious ? When that the poor have cried , Cæsar hath wept ...
Side 10
... says he was ambitious ; And sure , he is an honourable man . I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ; But here I am to speak what I do know . You all did love him once - not without cause ; What cause withholds you , then , to mourn ...
... says he was ambitious ; And sure , he is an honourable man . I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ; But here I am to speak what I do know . You all did love him once - not without cause ; What cause withholds you , then , to mourn ...
Side 14
... Say it , Othello . Oth . Her father loved me ; oft invited me ; Still question'd me the story of my life , From year to year ; the battles , sieges , fortunes , That I have pass'd . I ran it through , even from my boyish days , To the ...
... Say it , Othello . Oth . Her father loved me ; oft invited me ; Still question'd me the story of my life , From year to year ; the battles , sieges , fortunes , That I have pass'd . I ran it through , even from my boyish days , To the ...
Side 28
... sit between , Throned in celestial sheen , With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering ; And heaven , as at some festival , Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall . But wisest Fate says No , This must not yet 28.
... sit between , Throned in celestial sheen , With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering ; And heaven , as at some festival , Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall . But wisest Fate says No , This must not yet 28.
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Alba Longa Antony beneath blest blood bowers breast breath bright broadsword Brutus Cæsar CANTO charms Cheviot clouds conclave crag Crispian dark dead dear deep Desdemona doom doth dread earth ENGLISH POETRY eternal fair fear fire flowers frae friends gentle grace green grief grove Gudrun hath Hear our solemn heard heart heaven hill holy honourable hope hour hung HYMN Juxta crucem knew lake leave light live LIVERPOOL LOCH KATRINE Lord loud MELROSE ABBEY morn mountain ne'er night nymphs o'er OTHELLO pale Paraclete pass'd peace pilum pity Pleb praise Prioress quake quire rise Rome round Saint SCOTT'S shade sigh sing smile soft solemn litany song sorrow soul speak spirit stood stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine to-day tree warbling watch wave weary ween weep wept wild wings wish'd wondrous wont wounded wretch
Populære passager
Side 38 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Side 44 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! But the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Side 41 - Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow. And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Side 48 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days : There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear ; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Side 16 - 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...
Side 14 - And portance in my travel's history : Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, such was the process ; And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders.
Side 11 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Side 44 - Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile), Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Side 19 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask and antique pageantry ; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
Side 8 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.