Elegant extracts in poetry, Band 2 |
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Seite 638
0 . couldst thou speak , I Than gilt his trophy : the breasts of Hecuba , That I might
hear thee call great Cæsar ass , When she did suckle Hector , looked not ... Dost
thou not see my baby at my breast , Doing our Duty merits not Praise .
0 . couldst thou speak , I Than gilt his trophy : the breasts of Hecuba , That I might
hear thee call great Cæsar ass , When she did suckle Hector , looked not ... Dost
thou not see my baby at my breast , Doing our Duty merits not Praise .
Seite 793
And while I gaze , thy mild and placid light And points my wishes to that tranquil
shore , Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast ; / Where the pale spectre
Care pursues no more . And oft I think , fair planet of the night ! That in thy orb the
...
And while I gaze , thy mild and placid light And points my wishes to that tranquil
shore , Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast ; / Where the pale spectre
Care pursues no more . And oft I think , fair planet of the night ! That in thy orb the
...
Seite 795
Thy strong enchantments , when the poet ' s Now spring returns ; but not to me
returns Jyre , The vernal joy my better years have known : | The painter ' s pencil ,
catch the vivid fire , Dim in my breast life ' s dying taper burns , And beauty wakes
...
Thy strong enchantments , when the poet ' s Now spring returns ; but not to me
returns Jyre , The vernal joy my better years have known : | The painter ' s pencil ,
catch the vivid fire , Dim in my breast life ' s dying taper burns , And beauty wakes
...
Seite 940
A bower so sweet as Mosellay , O ! when these fair , perfidious maids , Whose
eyes our secrei haunts infest , Their dear destructive charms display , Each
glauce my tender breast invades , And robs my wounded soul of rest , As Tartars
seize ...
A bower so sweet as Mosellay , O ! when these fair , perfidious maids , Whose
eyes our secrei haunts infest , Their dear destructive charms display , Each
glauce my tender breast invades , And robs my wounded soul of rest , As Tartars
seize ...
Seite 994
... the deed of sorrow , When I shall voyce aloud how good The fatal spear that
pierc ' d his breast , He is , how great should be , His comely breast on the Braes
of Yarrow Th ' enlarged windes that curle the flood · Know no such libertie .
... the deed of sorrow , When I shall voyce aloud how good The fatal spear that
pierc ' d his breast , He is , how great should be , His comely breast on the Braes
of Yarrow Th ' enlarged windes that curle the flood · Know no such libertie .
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appear arms bear beauty better blood breast breath bring charms comes cried dead dear death doth earth ev'ry eyes face fair fall fame fate father fear feel fire fool gentle give gods gold grace grief hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven hold honor hope hour keep kind king Lady leave light live look lord lost mean meet mind nature ne'er never night o'er once pain passion peace play poor pride rest rise round scene seen side sleep smile soft Song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit stand sure sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought thousand tongue true truth turn virtue wind wish young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 790 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Seite 745 - Had ye been there, for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Seite 640 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all : to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Seite 631 - His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm Crested the world : his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends ; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder.
Seite 589 - The seasons' difference : as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Seite 662 - tis true, this god did shake : His coward lips did from their colour fly ; And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, , Alas ! it cried, " Give me some drink, Titinius,
Seite 664 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii: — Look, in this place, ran Cassius...
Seite 643 - The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See what a grace was seated on this brow ; Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Seite 745 - Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. "Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?
Seite 661 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.