Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry, 1 tomasJ. Sharpe, 1810 |
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Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry, Vol. 1 of 2– With Remarks ... Henry Headley Peržiūra negalima - 2017 |
Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry, Vol. 1 of 2– With Remarks ... Henry Headley Peržiūra negalima - 2018 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Alençon ancient arms beauty Benwell blood born bower breast breath Cant castle cheerful crown Daniel Daphles dark Davenant death delight Doracles dost doth Drayton dreadful Dunmow Earle Earle of March edit Edmund Bolton Edward elegant English eyes fair falling idols fame fate fear Fletcher Francis Quarles Giles Fletcher Gondibert grace grief hand hath Headley heart heav'n hell Henry honour Jonson King live look Lord Milton mind Mortimer Muses never night nought Nut-brown Maid o'er Oxford Oxon passage PHINEAS FLETCHER pieces poem poet poetical poetry Poly-Olbion Priam prince Quarles queen reader reign Robert Fitz Walter Rosamond SAMUEL DANIEL seem'd seems Shakspeare sighs sight slain Slanes Castle sleep sorrow soul Spenser spirit stood sweet sword taste tears thee thing thou thought tion Trinity College unto verses victory Whilst woeful Wood words wretched writers
Populiarios ištraukos
190 psl. - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the whilst? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men. After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
xlv psl. - The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!
xxvii psl. - He made an administration so checkered and speckled ; he put together a piece of joinery so. crossly indented and whimsically dove-tailed ; a cabinet so variously inlaid ; such a piece of diversified mosaic, such a tesselated pavement without cement ; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of white...
xxvii psl. - ... a tesselated pavement without cement ; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of white ; patriots and courtiers, king's friends and republicans; whigs and tories; treacherous friends and open enemies ; that it was indeed a very curious show ; but utterly unsafe to touch, and unsure to stand on.
138 psl. - What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome?
87 psl. - And first, within the porch and jaws of Hell, Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent With tears; and to herself oft would she tell Her wretchedness, and cursing never stent To sob and sigh; but ever thus lament, With thoughtful care, as she that, all in vain, Would wear, and waste continually in pain. Her eyes...
80 psl. - To th' instruments divine respondence meet ; The silver sounding instruments did meet With the base murmur of the water's fall : The water's fall with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call : The gentle warbling wind low answered to alL The while, some one did chant this lovely lay : ' Ah see, whoso fair thing dost fain to see.
90 psl. - Or whom she lifted up into the throne Of high renown ; but, as a living death, So, dead alive, of life he drew the breath. The body's rest, the quiet of the heart, The travail's ease, the still night's fear was he, And of our life in earth the better part ; Reaver of sight, and yet in whom we see Things oft that tide, and oft that never be ; Without respect, esteeming equally King Groemi pomp, and Irus
190 psl. - Richard ; no man cried, God save him; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, — That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
202 psl. - Whether the soul receives intelligence, By her near genius, of the body's end, And so imparts a sadness to the sense, Foregoing ruin whereto it doth tend ; Or whether nature else hath conference With profound sleep, and so doth warning send. By prophetising dreams, what hurt is near, And gives the heavy careful heart to fear...