English Poetry and PoetsEstes & Lauriat, 1890 - 506 Seiten |
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Seite 109
... thou see ? Hark , hither ! and thyself be he . " Among the miscellaneous poets of this period we have Sylvester and Barnwell and Marlowe the dramatist . Marlowe's " Passionate Shepherd " is a poem of great beauty . Sylvester claims ...
... thou see ? Hark , hither ! and thyself be he . " Among the miscellaneous poets of this period we have Sylvester and Barnwell and Marlowe the dramatist . Marlowe's " Passionate Shepherd " is a poem of great beauty . Sylvester claims ...
Seite 118
... thou but one bare hour to live , And then thou must be damned perpetually . Stand still , you ever - moving spheres of heaven , That time may cease and midnight never come ! Fair Nature's eye , rise , rise again , and make Perpetual day ...
... thou but one bare hour to live , And then thou must be damned perpetually . Stand still , you ever - moving spheres of heaven , That time may cease and midnight never come ! Fair Nature's eye , rise , rise again , and make Perpetual day ...
Seite 121
... thou here seest put , It was for gentle Shakespeare cut , Wherein the graver had a strife With nature , to outdo the life . O could he but have drawn his wit As well in brass as he hath hit His face , the print would then surpass All ...
... thou here seest put , It was for gentle Shakespeare cut , Wherein the graver had a strife With nature , to outdo the life . O could he but have drawn his wit As well in brass as he hath hit His face , the print would then surpass All ...
Seite 123
... thou easer of all woes , Brother to Death , sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince : fall like a cloud In gentle showers ; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers ; easy , light And as a purling stream , thou son ...
... thou easer of all woes , Brother to Death , sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince : fall like a cloud In gentle showers ; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers ; easy , light And as a purling stream , thou son ...
Seite 129
... thou giv'st my little boy Some syrup for his cold ; and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep . - Now what you please . What death ? Bosola.- Strangling . Here are your executioners . Duch . I forgive them . The apoplexy , catarrh ...
... thou giv'st my little boy Some syrup for his cold ; and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep . - Now what you please . What death ? Bosola.- Strangling . Here are your executioners . Duch . I forgive them . The apoplexy , catarrh ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
admiration ancient Anglo-Saxon ballads bard beauty Ben Jonson bonny mill-dams born Burns Cædmon century character Charles Lamb charms Chaucer Coleridge Coleridge's composition Comus conceived cotemporaries court critic death delight diction died divine doth drama dream Dryden elegance Elizabeth England English English language English poetry exquisite Faery Queen fair fancy father flowers genius grace hath heart heaven honor Hudibras humor imagination immortal Johnson King lady language Laodamia Leigh Hunt literary literature lived Lord mill-dams of Binnorie Milton mind minstrels moral Moral plays nature never night noble observed passion pathos Piers Ploughman plays poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope popular pounds prose Protesilaus reign rhyme Roman says Scotland Scottish language sentiment Shakespeare sing song soul Southey Spenser spirit stanzas style sweet taste tender thee thou thought tion tragedy true verse versification Wordsworth writing wrote
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 159 - Going to the Wars 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 247 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Seite 191 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence. How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled...
Seite 361 - Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy. Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he. Who sung of Border chivalry: For, welladay!
Seite 146 - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears ; and sometime voices, That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me ; that, when I wak'd, I cried to dream again.
Seite 306 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. 'The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Seite 131 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death.
Seite 202 - Yet when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.
Seite 171 - The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again. The plants suck in the earth, and are With constant drinking fresh and fair.
Seite 185 - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem...