Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language,Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1811 |
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Seite 22
... sings , Her voice revives the leaden strings , And doth in highest notes appear , As any challeng❜d echo clear : But ... sing , My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring ; But if she do of sorrow speak , E'en from my heart the strings do break ...
... sings , Her voice revives the leaden strings , And doth in highest notes appear , As any challeng❜d echo clear : But ... sing , My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring ; But if she do of sorrow speak , E'en from my heart the strings do break ...
Seite 31
... my love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind , Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give my love good - morrow ! To give my love good - morrow , Notes from [ 31 ]
... my love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind , Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give my love good - morrow ! To give my love good - morrow , Notes from [ 31 ]
Seite 32
... Sing birds in every furrow ; And from each hill let music shrill - Give my fair love good - morrow ! Blackbird , and thrush , in every bush , Stare , linnet , and cock - sparrow ! You pretty elves , amongst yourselves , Sing my fair ...
... Sing birds in every furrow ; And from each hill let music shrill - Give my fair love good - morrow ! Blackbird , and thrush , in every bush , Stare , linnet , and cock - sparrow ! You pretty elves , amongst yourselves , Sing my fair ...
Seite 42
... the wish'd bridegroom of the earth . The well - accorded birds did sing Their hymns unto the pleasant time , And in a sweet consorted chime Did welcome in the cheerful spring . To which , soft whistles of the wind , And [ 42 ]
... the wish'd bridegroom of the earth . The well - accorded birds did sing Their hymns unto the pleasant time , And in a sweet consorted chime Did welcome in the cheerful spring . To which , soft whistles of the wind , And [ 42 ]
Seite 52
... joys creep in their melting veins . How oft have I , the Muses ' bower frequenting , Miss'd them at home , and found them all with thee , Whether thou sing'st sad Eupathus lamenting , Or tunest notes 52 PHINEAS FLETCHER .
... joys creep in their melting veins . How oft have I , the Muses ' bower frequenting , Miss'd them at home , and found them all with thee , Whether thou sing'st sad Eupathus lamenting , Or tunest notes 52 PHINEAS FLETCHER .
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Admet ALPHEUS FELCH Anon Beaumont and Fletcher beauty beauty's Biographia Dramatica birds born breast breath Carew Castara chaste Chloris Corpus Christi College court Cupid dear death delight died disdain dost doth earth Edgar Atheling English Exeter College extracted eyes fair fancy fate fear flame Fletcher flowers folly FRANCIS BEAUMONT GILES FLETCHER grace grief happy hath hear heart heaven honour John Hall joys king kiss Laius language leave lips live lord lov'd Love's Love's cruelty lover maid MATTHEW STEVENSON melancholy mind miscellany mistress morning Muses ne'er never night nymph o'er Oxford passion Phillis Picts pleasure poems poet poetry praise pride printed reign rose Saxon says Wood scorn sighs sing smile SONG SONNET sorrow soul spring stanzas star sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought unto wanton weep Whilst wind wings youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 244 - WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Seite 31 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Seite 278 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage ; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage : If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above Enjoy such liberty.
Seite 275 - 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 277 - Prison WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates — When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Seite 194 - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended 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 things rare May read in thee, — How...
Seite 132 - 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 85 - I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair! If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve! If she slight me, when I woo, I can scorn, and let her go! For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be?
Seite 222 - Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Seite 63 - Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.