English Poetry (1170-1892).Ginn, 1907 - 580 страници |
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Страница ix
... Sleep .. 159 Song to Bacchus .. 159 Drink To - day . 159 xcvii , xcviii , xcix , cvi , cvii , Beauty Clear and Fair . 159 cix , cx , cxi , cxvi , cxxviii , cxlvi ) The Charm .. 159 138 The Sleeping Mistress . 160 Songs from the Plays ...
... Sleep .. 159 Song to Bacchus .. 159 Drink To - day . 159 xcvii , xcviii , xcix , cvi , cvii , Beauty Clear and Fair . 159 cix , cx , cxi , cxvi , cxxviii , cxlvi ) The Charm .. 159 138 The Sleeping Mistress . 160 Songs from the Plays ...
Страница xii
... Sleep ..... 345 A Bard's Epitaph .. 319 To B. R. Haydon ... 345 Auld Lang Syne ... 320 The River Duddon ( i , ii , iii , iv ) .. 345 Of a ' the airts the wind can blaw . 320 Scorn not the sonnet .. 346 Go fetch to me a pint o ' wine ...
... Sleep ..... 345 A Bard's Epitaph .. 319 To B. R. Haydon ... 345 Auld Lang Syne ... 320 The River Duddon ( i , ii , iii , iv ) .. 345 Of a ' the airts the wind can blaw . 320 Scorn not the sonnet .. 346 Go fetch to me a pint o ' wine ...
Страница xiii
... Sleep , On the Sea , When I have Fears , Bright Star ! ) . 413 414 414 415 415 416 416 ' Tis the last rose of summer . 375 Endymion . 417 The harp that once through Tara's Hyperion .. 418 halls ... 375 Lamia .. 420 Oh , breathe not his ...
... Sleep , On the Sea , When I have Fears , Bright Star ! ) . 413 414 414 415 415 416 416 ' Tis the last rose of summer . 375 Endymion . 417 The harp that once through Tara's Hyperion .. 418 halls ... 375 Lamia .. 420 Oh , breathe not his ...
Страница 25
... Sleep and sleughthe " / suweth " 2 hem evere . 44 45 Pilgrimes and palmers / plihten 13 hem togederes For to seche Seint Jame / and seintes at Roome ; Wenten forth in heore wey / with mony wyse tales , 1 found 2 working 3 them ...
... Sleep and sleughthe " / suweth " 2 hem evere . 44 45 Pilgrimes and palmers / plihten 13 hem togederes For to seche Seint Jame / and seintes at Roome ; Wenten forth in heore wey / with mony wyse tales , 1 found 2 working 3 them ...
Страница 81
... Sleep , if she might , her hunger to beguile . " My sister , " quoth she , " hath a living good , And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile . In cold and storm she lieth warm and dry In bed of down , the dirt doth not defile Her tender ...
... Sleep , if she might , her hunger to beguile . " My sister , " quoth she , " hath a living good , And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile . In cold and storm she lieth warm and dry In bed of down , the dirt doth not defile Her tender ...
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Antistrophe arms beauty breast breath bright Chaucer Corydon dark dead dear death dost doth doun dread dream earth eyes face fair fear flowers forto frae grace grief hand hast hath hear heart Heaven herte Hind Horn king knyght kyng lady Lady of Shalott LAYAMON light live look Lord mind Mother Muse myght ne'er never night nought numbers nymph o'er Oxus poem praise quath quoth rest rose round Rustum ryght sayd sche shal shine sigh sight sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul speke spirit stars stood sweet swich tears thanne thee ther thine thing thou art thought thow thro trewe twas Tydeus unto voice wacz weep whan wild wind wolde words wyde wyll Wyth youth ΙΟ ΤΟ
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Страница 382 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips — »The foe! They come! they come!« And wild and high the 'Cameron's gathering...
Страница 385 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, •To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll!
Страница 459 - Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 60 Of all the western stars, until I die.
Страница 476 - ... rim. Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer ; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. And all I remember is, friends flocking round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his...
Страница 385 - Thy waters washed them power while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play; Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Страница 408 - He is made one with Nature: there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own; Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
Страница 434 - Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
Страница 340 - Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by...
Страница 356 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day. We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink: Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.
Страница 121 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his...