Elegant extracts in poetry, Том 21816 |
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Страница 594
... poor physician's daughter , thou dislik'st Of virtue for the name , -But do not so- From lowest place when virtuous things pro- ceed , The place is dignified by the doer's deed . Where great addition swells , and virtue none , It is a ...
... poor physician's daughter , thou dislik'st Of virtue for the name , -But do not so- From lowest place when virtuous things pro- ceed , The place is dignified by the doer's deed . Where great addition swells , and virtue none , It is a ...
Страница 595
... poor Rosalind , whither wilt [ mine . thou go ? Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee I charge thee , be not thou more griev'd than [ I am . Rosalind . I have more cause . [ Duke Celia . Thou hast not , cousin . Prythee be ...
... poor Rosalind , whither wilt [ mine . thou go ? Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee I charge thee , be not thou more griev'd than [ I am . Rosalind . I have more cause . [ Duke Celia . Thou hast not , cousin . Prythee be ...
Страница 605
... poor As fancy values them ; but with true prayers , That shall be up at heaven , and enter there Ere the sun rise : prayers from preserved souls , From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal . or mine ? The Power of ...
... poor As fancy values them ; but with true prayers , That shall be up at heaven , and enter there Ere the sun rise : prayers from preserved souls , From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal . or mine ? The Power of ...
Страница 606
... poor brother as my- self : That is , were I under the terms of death , Th'impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies , And strip myself to death as to a bed That longing I have been sick for , ere I'd yield My body up to shame . Ang ...
... poor brother as my- self : That is , were I under the terms of death , Th'impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies , And strip myself to death as to a bed That longing I have been sick for , ere I'd yield My body up to shame . Ang ...
Страница 616
... with one crest . And will you rend our ancient love asunder , To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? It is not friendly , ' tis not maidenly : Our sex as well as I may chide you for 616 BOOK III . ELEGANT EXTRACTS ,
... with one crest . And will you rend our ancient love asunder , To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? It is not friendly , ' tis not maidenly : Our sex as well as I may chide you for 616 BOOK III . ELEGANT EXTRACTS ,
Често срещани думи и фрази
Adam Bell art thou bear beauty behold blood bosom breast breath Britons Brutus busk Cæsar call'd Cato charms cheek Childe Waters cried dead dear death Derry dost doth dreadful e'en e'er Epigram ev'ry eyes fair fair lady fame fate father fear flow'rs fool GARRICK gentle give grace grief hand hath head hear heart Heaven honor Juba king Lady live look lord lov'd maid mind muse ne'er never night noble nymph o'er once passion peace pity play poison'd poor pow'r praise pride prince Prologue quoth Rome round sayd scene seem'd SHAKSPEARE sigh sing sleep smile soft Song sorrow soul speak spleen sweet sword Syphax tears tell thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue true Twas twill vex'd virtue weep willow Wilm wind wretched yemen youth Zounds
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Страница 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!
Страница 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?
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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,
Страница 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...
Страница 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.
Страница 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?
Страница 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.