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Seite 346 - With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets eat, She was pinched, and pulled, she said, And he by friars' lanthorn led Tells how the drudging goblin sweat, To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When in one night ere glimpse of morn His shadowy flail hath...
Seite 346 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Seite 65 - Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. Her lips suck forth my soul — see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips And all is dross that is not Helena.
Seite 352 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back...
Seite 64 - Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate enterprise I will? I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates...
Seite 66 - Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God ! No, no.
Seite 65 - CEnon's death? And hath not he that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Made music with my Mephistophilis?
Seite 214 - Shakspeare, new elucidations of their own human being; "new harmonies with the infinite structure of the Universe; concurrences with later ideas, affinities with the higher powers and senses of man.
Seite 353 - This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, Still walking like a ragged colt, And oft out of a bush doth bolt, Of purpose to deceive us ; And leading us makes us to stray, Long winter's nights, out of the way ; And when we stick in mire and clay, Hob doth with laughter leave us.