The Book of the Sonnet, Том 1Leigh Hunt, Samuel Adams Lee Roberts Brothers, 1867 |
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Страница 115
... lone . " to look Mr. Lowell's sonnet to " The Spirit of Keats " I must indulge myself and the reader in quoting entire : - " Great soul ! thou sittest with me in my room , Uplifting me with thy vast , quiet eyes , On whose full orbs ...
... lone . " to look Mr. Lowell's sonnet to " The Spirit of Keats " I must indulge myself and the reader in quoting entire : - " Great soul ! thou sittest with me in my room , Uplifting me with thy vast , quiet eyes , On whose full orbs ...
Страница 128
... lone hillside , or cavern - cradled flood , Have I held laughing converse , nymph , with thee ! This is thy dwelling , and along the wide Oak - woven halls , that stretch on every side , Murmuring sweet lullabies , I hear thee stray ...
... lone hillside , or cavern - cradled flood , Have I held laughing converse , nymph , with thee ! This is thy dwelling , and along the wide Oak - woven halls , that stretch on every side , Murmuring sweet lullabies , I hear thee stray ...
Страница 182
... lone hours ? Ingenuous views engage His thoughts on themes , unclassic falsely styled , Intent . While cloistered Piety displays Her mouldering roll , the piercing eye explores New manners , and the pomp of elder days , Whence culls the ...
... lone hours ? Ingenuous views engage His thoughts on themes , unclassic falsely styled , Intent . While cloistered Piety displays Her mouldering roll , the piercing eye explores New manners , and the pomp of elder days , Whence culls the ...
Страница 187
... lone wanderer , fainting on his way , Rest for a moment of the sultry hours , And , though his path through thorns and roughness lay , Pluck the wild rose or woodbine's gadding flowers ; Weaving gay wreaths beneath some sheltering tree ...
... lone wanderer , fainting on his way , Rest for a moment of the sultry hours , And , though his path through thorns and roughness lay , Pluck the wild rose or woodbine's gadding flowers ; Weaving gay wreaths beneath some sheltering tree ...
Страница 191
... lone brake that shades thy mossy nest ; And shepherd girls from eyes profane shall hide The gentle bird that sings of pity best : For still thy voice shall soft affections move , And still be dear to sorrow and to love . VI . " OUT OF ...
... lone brake that shades thy mossy nest ; And shepherd girls from eyes profane shall hide The gentle bird that sings of pity best : For still thy voice shall soft affections move , And still be dear to sorrow and to love . VI . " OUT OF ...
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Anna Seward Arezzo beauty birds bloom breath bright brow calm CHARLES LAMB charm clouds Dante dark dear death deep delight divine doth dreams earth ENGLISH SONNETS eyes Faerie Queene fair fancy fear feel flowers gaze gentle glory glow golden grace happy hath heart heaven hills hope hour Italian Italian language Italian poetry Italy lady LEIGH HUNT light live lone look melody mind morn mournful murmur muse nature neath never night o'er pale passion Petrarca poems poet poetical poetry quatrains rhymes rills SARAH JOSEPHA HALE seems Shakespeare shine sighs silent sing sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul spirit spring star strange streams sunny sweet tears thee thine things Thomas Warton thou art thought twilight Varchi Veronica Gambara verse voice wandering waves weary wild winds wings words Wordsworth
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Страница 236 - IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration: the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder — everlastingly.
Страница 235 - Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men. Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Страница 179 - LAWRENCE ! of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining ? Time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.
Страница xii - Scorn not the Sonnet ; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours ; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart ; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound ; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound ; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow : a glow-worm lamp...
Страница 160 - Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Страница 180 - Purification in the old Law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight, Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined So clear, as in no face with more delight. But O as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.
Страница 272 - Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: — No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest; Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever, — or else swoon to death.
Страница 263 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise: Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Страница 159 - From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew ; Nor did...
Страница 175 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our Fathers worshipped stocks and stones...