Ben Jonson to DrydenThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1880 |
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Страница 50
... wings the summer dyes Of many colours ? get thee fruit , Or steal from heaven old Orpheus ' lute ? All these I'll venture for , and more , To do her service all these woods adore . FROM ' THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN . ' [ By 50 THE ENGLISH ...
... wings the summer dyes Of many colours ? get thee fruit , Or steal from heaven old Orpheus ' lute ? All these I'll venture for , and more , To do her service all these woods adore . FROM ' THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN . ' [ By 50 THE ENGLISH ...
Страница 73
... wing , To tune her voice unto a silver string , When she should run , she rests ; rests when should run , And ends her lesson having now begun : Now misseth she her stop , then in her song , And doing of her best she still is wrong ...
... wing , To tune her voice unto a silver string , When she should run , she rests ; rests when should run , And ends her lesson having now begun : Now misseth she her stop , then in her song , And doing of her best she still is wrong ...
Страница 92
... wing she gets power ; Yet the higher she doth soar , She's affronted still the more : Till she to the high'st hath past , Then she rests with fame at last . Let nought therefore thee affright , But make forward in thy flight : For , if ...
... wing she gets power ; Yet the higher she doth soar , She's affronted still the more : Till she to the high'st hath past , Then she rests with fame at last . Let nought therefore thee affright , But make forward in thy flight : For , if ...
Страница 93
... wings were clipt of late : And poor I , her fortune rueing , Am myself put up a mewing : But if I my cage can rid , I'll fly where I never did : And though for her sake I'm crost , Though my best hopes I have lost , And knew she would ...
... wings were clipt of late : And poor I , her fortune rueing , Am myself put up a mewing : But if I my cage can rid , I'll fly where I never did : And though for her sake I'm crost , Though my best hopes I have lost , And knew she would ...
Страница 116
... wing ; As thou return'st , change by thy power Every weed into a flower , Turn each thistle to a vine , Make the bramble eglantine ! For so rich a booty made , Do but this , and I am paid . Thou canst with thy powerful blast Heat apace ...
... wing ; As thou return'st , change by thy power Every weed into a flower , Turn each thistle to a vine , Make the bramble eglantine ! For so rich a booty made , Do but this , and I am paid . Thou canst with thy powerful blast Heat apace ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Castara Comus Cowley crown dark death delight divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory golden Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert Herrick hill honour Hudibras Il Penseroso John Dryden Jonson King L'Allegro Lady light live Lord Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night nymphs o'er odes once Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion pleasure poem poet poet's poetic poetry praise pride reign rose sacred satire shade shepherds sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirits stars stream sweet tears temple thee thence thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton winds wings write youth
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Страница 260 - 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.
Страница 323 - 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 442 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Страница 338 - 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 467 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown : He raised a mortal to the skies: She drew an angel down.
Страница 164 - 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 204 - 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 343 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring.
Страница 310 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days: But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life.
Страница 305 - 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.