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Anon Bayly bear Beaumont and Fletcher beauty blue blush breath bright brow Byron charms cheek comes Crabbe dark deep Dr Syntax dwelling earth eyes face fair fall fear feeling flowers gentle girl give grace green hair half hand happy hast hath He's head heart Hogg hope hour kind LADY leaves light lips live look mild mind Miss Moore morn nature never night o'er pale passing peace perfect poor Pope pride proud pure rich rose round Scott seems seen Shakspeare She's shine sigh smile Smith soft soul speaks spirit spring stands summer sure sweet tall tell tender Tennyson thee thine things Thou art thought trees true truth turn wild wise woman young youth
Страница 98 - Favours to none, to all she smiles extends ; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. « Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And like the sun, they shine on all alike. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide : If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all.
Страница 14 - That hath a mint of phrases in his brain : One, whom the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony...
Страница 109 - I saw her upon nearer view A spirit, yet a woman too ! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty ; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food : For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Страница 77 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries ' Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Страница 175 - Methought I heard a voice cry " Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep" — the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M.
Страница 190 - Lo ! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast The sun ariseth in his majesty ; Who doth the world so gloriously behold, That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.
Страница 190 - tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Страница 186 - And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.