A History of English Literature: From Beowulf to 1926, 1 tomasScribner, 1926 - 547 psl. |
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
A History of English Literature– From Beowulf to 1926 William Vaughn Moody,Robert Morss Lovett Visos knygos peržiūra - 1926 |
A History of English Literature– From Beowulf to 1926 William Vaughn Moody,Robert Morss Lovett Visos knygos peržiūra - 1926 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
actors admirable allegory alliterative verse Anglican Anglo-Norman Anglo-Saxon Anglo-Saxon literature artistic beauty Ben Jonson Beowulf Bible blank verse Byrhtnoth century character charm Chaucer Christian classical comedy comic contemporaries court Cynewulf death Dekker drama edition Elizabethan England English literature English poetry epic euphuism Faerie Queene feeling Fletcher France French genius gives glory grace heart Henry honour imagination imitated inspired Italian John Jonson king language Latin less literary lively London lover Lyly lyrical Marlowe marvellous Milton moral nature original passages passion plays playwrights poem poet poet's poetic poetry popular prose Puritan queen reign religious Renascence rhymes rhythm Richard II romance Saint satire scenes Sejanus Shakespeare shows Sidney sometimes songs sonnets Spanish Tragedie Spenser spirit stage stanzas story style Tamburlaine taste theatre theme Thomas thought tion tragedy translation trouvères verse versification vols whole wife words write written wrote
Populiarios ištraukos
138 psl. - Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. We shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.
361 psl. - O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
278 psl. - Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
258 psl. - Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, That perfect bliss and sole felicity, The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
339 psl. - Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks: methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam...
336 psl. - For so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring upwards, singing as he rises, and hopes to get to heaven, and climb above the clouds ; but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and inconstant, descending more at every breath of the tempest than it could recover by the...
164 psl. - From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit; If these had made one poem's period, And all...
228 psl. - Certainly I must confess mine own barbarousness; I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet; and yet it is sung but by some blind crowder, with no rougher voice than rude style...
366 psl. - Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted state, With even step and musing gait And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes...
143 psl. - And when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done. As to be heard where ear is none, As lead to grave in marble stone, My Song may pierce her heart as soon. Should we then sigh, or sing, or moan? No, no, my lute, for I have done.