The English Poets: Selections with Critical IntroductionsThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1895 |
Между кориците на книгата
Резултати 1 - 5 от 66.
Страница 2
... souls of men , or lightly to move the mirth of the multitude , was and is beyond the power of his poetic genius . To dissolve its inspirations in wantonness , or to satisfy coarse appetites with the husks of its fruits , was incom ...
... souls of men , or lightly to move the mirth of the multitude , was and is beyond the power of his poetic genius . To dissolve its inspirations in wantonness , or to satisfy coarse appetites with the husks of its fruits , was incom ...
Страница 4
... soul , ' or a hint of the Queen's which he had to develope as ladies ' hints sometimes require , his aim was chiefly to give something of dramatic life as well as of deeper meaning to his occasional pieces . Not only was he re- solved ...
... soul , ' or a hint of the Queen's which he had to develope as ladies ' hints sometimes require , his aim was chiefly to give something of dramatic life as well as of deeper meaning to his occasional pieces . Not only was he re- solved ...
Страница 7
... soul towards things divine , which stands in strange and touching contrast to the high mettle and quick temper of his bearing in most other matters . Critics have been known to cry out against having to hear too much about the ...
... soul towards things divine , which stands in strange and touching contrast to the high mettle and quick temper of his bearing in most other matters . Critics have been known to cry out against having to hear too much about the ...
Страница 14
... soul doth rise , Doth ask a drink divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope , that there It could not withered be . But ...
... soul doth rise , Doth ask a drink divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope , that there It could not withered be . But ...
Страница 15
... soul I purposed her that should , with even powers , The rock , the spindle , and the shears control Of Destiny , and spin her own free hours . Such when I meant to feign , and wished to see , My Muse bade BEDFORD write , and that was ...
... soul I purposed her that should , with even powers , The rock , the spindle , and the shears control Of Destiny , and spin her own free hours . Such when I meant to feign , and wished to see , My Muse bade BEDFORD write , and that was ...
Съдържание
86 | |
104 | |
111 | |
117 | |
123 | |
124 | |
142 | |
148 | |
158 | |
170 | |
179 | |
188 | |
197 | |
315 | |
322 | |
380 | |
384 | |
396 | |
408 | |
410 | |
419 | |
430 | |
437 | |
449 | |
459 | |
469 | |
Често срещани думи и фрази
Aglaura beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Catullus charm Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw death delight died dost doth drest earth EDMUND W eyes fair fancy fear fire flame Fletcher flowers GEORGE WITHER Giles Fletcher glory grace Habington hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert heroic couplet Herrick Hesperides honour Inner Temple Jonson kiss leaves light lips live Lord Lovelace lover Lycidas maid Milton mind mistress Muse never night numbers o'er passion pastoral Perilla plays pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise Queen RICHARD LOVELACE rose shade Shepherd's shine sigh sing sleep songs sonnets soul spring stars Suckling Sweet Spirit tears thee thine things THOMAS CAREW thou shalt thought tomb unto Vaughan verse wanton wassail weep WILLIAM HABINGTON winds wings Wither write youth
Популярни откъси
Страница 352 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide ; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Страница 312 - Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,— Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm...
Страница 323 - 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?
Страница 218 - 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.
Страница 386 - What wondrous life is this I lead ! Ripe apples drop about my head ; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine ; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach ; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Страница 482 - Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain: Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
Страница 332 - What though the field be lost? All is not lost — the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield : And what is else not to be overcome.
Страница 337 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Страница 178 - 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? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move: This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!
Страница 301 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...