English Writers: An Attempt Towards a History of English Literature

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Cassell, limited, 1892
 

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Seite 117 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Seite 349 - Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That own'd the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass, On which the Tartar king did ride...
Seite 229 - Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone : regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits To practise more than heavenly power permits.
Seite 400 - At length they all to merry London came, To merry London, my most kindly nurse, That to me gave this life's first native source; Though from another place I take my name, An house of ancient fame: There when they came, whereas those bricky tower? The which on Thames...
Seite 310 - How oft do they their silver bowers leave, To come to succour us, that succour want? How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant, Against foul fiends to aid us militant?
Seite 220 - From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of war Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine Threatening the world with high astounding terms And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword.
Seite 229 - Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God ! No, no.
Seite 130 - MY mind to me a kingdom is ; Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. No princely pomp, no wealthy store, No force to win the victory, No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to feed a loving eye; To none of these I yield as thrall ; For why ? my mind doth serve for all.
Seite 310 - And is there care in Heaven ? and is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is...
Seite 284 - So in the person of Prince Arthure I sette forth magnificence in particular, which vertue, for that (according to Aristotle and the rest) it is the perfection of all the rest, and conteineth in it them all...

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