Specimens of the British Poets: With Biographical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on English PoetryJ. Murray, 1841 - 716 Seiten |
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Seite xxx
... Bring me to winne with selfé God . Maiden's In English . Saint Mary , Christ's bower purity , Motherhood's flower - Destroy my sin , reign in my mood or mind - Bring me to dwell with the very God . LAYAMON . And of alle than folke The ...
... Bring me to winne with selfé God . Maiden's In English . Saint Mary , Christ's bower purity , Motherhood's flower - Destroy my sin , reign in my mood or mind - Bring me to dwell with the very God . LAYAMON . And of alle than folke The ...
Seite xxxii
... bring it down to a great many years later . In the fair idea of English we surely , in general , understand a considerable mixture of French wordst . Now , whatever may have been done in the twelfth century , with regard to that change ...
... bring it down to a great many years later . In the fair idea of English we surely , in general , understand a considerable mixture of French wordst . Now , whatever may have been done in the twelfth century , with regard to that change ...
Seite liii
... bring us back again . It is true that those doleful legends were long continued , during a brighter period ; but this was only done by an inferior order of poets , and was owing to their admira- I would as then I had been free , From ...
... bring us back again . It is true that those doleful legends were long continued , during a brighter period ; but this was only done by an inferior order of poets , and was owing to their admira- I would as then I had been free , From ...
Seite lviii
... bring forth to light . Doth any man in princely thrones rejoice ? O brittle joy ! How many ills , how fair a face , and yet how much annoy In thee doth lurk , and hidden lies what heaps of endless strife ! stone , the author of " Promos ...
... bring forth to light . Doth any man in princely thrones rejoice ? O brittle joy ! How many ills , how fair a face , and yet how much annoy In thee doth lurk , and hidden lies what heaps of endless strife ! stone , the author of " Promos ...
Seite lix
... bring delicate perfumes , To play the wanton with us through the leaves . David . What tunes , what words , what looks , what wonders pierce My soul , incensed with a sudden fire ? What tree , what shade , what spring , what paradise ...
... bring delicate perfumes , To play the wanton with us through the leaves . David . What tunes , what words , what looks , what wonders pierce My soul , incensed with a sudden fire ? What tree , what shade , what spring , what paradise ...
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Aret beauty behold Ben Jonson blood Born breast breath bright Canterbury Tales Cham charms Chaucer CLEORA court dear death delight Died dost doth earth English eyes fair fame fancy fate father fear flame genius give grace grief hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven Hengo honour hope Hudibras king lady language Layamon Leosthenes light live look Lord Lubberkin maid Massinissa Metis mind Mirror for Magistrates Muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er pain passion pity pleasure poem poet poetical poetry praise pride prince queen racter rise Rodmond round Saxon scene Scotland seem'd Selim shade Shakspeare shine sight sing smile soft song soul spirit sweet taste tears tell thee thine things thou art thought trembling truth Twas unto verse virtue wanton whilst wind wretch youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 83 - Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom : If this be error, and upon me proved, 1 never writ, nor no man ever loved. ~ SONNET
Seite 134 - day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Seite 266 - flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May ! that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing ! Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Seite lxii - eye like Mars to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill— Who can read these lines without perceiving that Shakspeare had imbibed a deeper feeling of the beauty of Pagan mythology than a thousand pedants could have imbibed in their whole lives?
Seite 83 - SONNET CXVI. Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove ; 0 no, it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, [taken. Whose worth's unknown, although his height be
Seite 134 - Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie ; My music shows you have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives, But when the whole world turns to coal, Then chiefly lives.
Seite 386 - or the fan, supply each pause of chat. With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that. Meanwhile, declining from the noon of day, The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray ; The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang, that jurymen may dine ; The merchant from th
Seite 298 - 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 tilings rare May read in thee, How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair".
Seite 257 - THE SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION. Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair ! Or make pale my cheeks with care, 'Cause another's rosy are ? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flow'ry meads in May ; If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she
Seite lxi - insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great, when great occasion is presented to him ; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets— Quantum lenta soient inter