English LyricsKegan Paul, Trench & Company, 1883 - 296 Seiten |
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Seite xii
... Bright be the place of thy Soul . Thomas L. Peacock 233 Lord Byron . . 236 . Lord Byron • 237 CLXV . When we two Parted . • . Lord Byron 238 Lord Byron 239 in • Lord Byron • • 240 CLXVIII . Song 242 CLXVI . Stanzas for Music . CLXVII ...
... Bright be the place of thy Soul . Thomas L. Peacock 233 Lord Byron . . 236 . Lord Byron • 237 CLXV . When we two Parted . • . Lord Byron 238 Lord Byron 239 in • Lord Byron • • 240 CLXVIII . Song 242 CLXVI . Stanzas for Music . CLXVII ...
Seite 1
... And yet a bone Most cruel in my wound . With lilies white And roses bright Doth strain thy colour fair ; B i Nature did lend Each finger's end A pearl for to The Lover praiseth the Beauty his Lady's hand The Character of a Happy Life.
... And yet a bone Most cruel in my wound . With lilies white And roses bright Doth strain thy colour fair ; B i Nature did lend Each finger's end A pearl for to The Lover praiseth the Beauty his Lady's hand The Character of a Happy Life.
Seite 12
... bright , Entice you eft with vain delight . And lullaby my wanton will ; Let reason's rule now rein thy thought ; Since all too late I find by skill How dear I have thy fancies bought ; With lullaby now take thine ease , With lullaby ...
... bright , Entice you eft with vain delight . And lullaby my wanton will ; Let reason's rule now rein thy thought ; Since all too late I find by skill How dear I have thy fancies bought ; With lullaby now take thine ease , With lullaby ...
Seite 14
... bright , She that is the shepherd's joy ; She that Venus did despite , And did blind her little boy . This is she , the wise , the rich , That the world desires to see ; This is ipsa qua the which , There is none but only she . Who ...
... bright , She that is the shepherd's joy ; She that Venus did despite , And did blind her little boy . This is she , the wise , the rich , That the world desires to see ; This is ipsa qua the which , There is none but only she . Who ...
Seite 24
... . Vermilion roses , that with new day's rise Display your crimson folds fresh - looking fair , Whose radiant bright disgraces The rich adorned rays of roseate rising morn ; Ah ! if her virgin's hand Do pluck your pure 24 ENGLISH LYRICS .
... . Vermilion roses , that with new day's rise Display your crimson folds fresh - looking fair , Whose radiant bright disgraces The rich adorned rays of roseate rising morn ; Ah ! if her virgin's hand Do pluck your pure 24 ENGLISH LYRICS .
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
adieu Love Anthony Wood beauty BEN JONSON best fits birds blow bosom breast breath bright brow cold County Guy Cynthia's Revels dead infected dear death delight doth earth England's Helicon eyes fair Samela fancy fear fire fits a little flowers Forget friends GEORGE GASCOIGNE give gone grave hath heart heaven holly Honour lady leaves live look Love is dead Love's lovers lulla lullaby lyric mourn ne'er never NICHOLAS BRETON night numbers o'er old familiar faces pain peace Phillada flouts Phillis pity pleasure poem Queen rage of wind ROBERT SOUTHWELL roses scorn shepherd shine sighs sight sing sleep smile SONG sorrow soul spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine things THOMAS DEKKER thou art thou dost Thou hast thought toil tomb tree ULYSSES unto untrue Love verse waking eye wanton waves weep wert winds youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 120 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against Fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Seite 186 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight ; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament : Her eyes as stars of twilight fair ; Like twilight's too her dusky hair ; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn ; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Seite 224 - And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head; And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But little he'll reck; if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Seite 66 - A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. W PILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run And do run still, though still I do deplore ? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done ; For I have more.
Seite 136 - Going to the Wars TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True; a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Seite 57 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown...
Seite 69 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose: Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess, excellently bright!
Seite 116 - SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die.
Seite 216 - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Seite 81 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity : 'Fie, fie, fie...