Specimens of the British Poets: With Biographical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on English Poetry
Henry Carey Baird, 1853 - 749 pages
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Specimens of the British Poets: With Biographical and Critcal Notices and An ...
Affichage du livre entier - 1855
Expressions et termes fréquents
appear arms bear beauty better blood Born breath bright bring cause character court dear death delight Died doth earth English eyes face fair fall fame fancy fate father fear fire gave give grace hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven honour hope hour keep kind king lady language leave light live look Lord lost mean mind Muse nature never night o'er once pain passion play pleasure poem poet poetry poor praise queen rest rise round scene seems sense shade side sight song soon soul speak spirit stand sure sweet taste tears tell thee things thou thought true truth turn verse virtue wind youth
Page 337 - 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. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
Page 262 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 203 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 262 - I With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty, And glories of my King; When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be, Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty.
Page 281 - That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
Page 541 - On a rock whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 542 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Page 311 - And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself; But such a sacred, and home-felt delight, Such sober certainty of waking bliss I never heard till now.
Page 137 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of...
Page 352 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages cursed; For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfix'd in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace; A fiery soul, which, working out, its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-inform'd the tenement of clay.