Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De VereAubrey Thomas De Vere 1858 |
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Page 24
... round about her head did shine like Hevens light . She was araied all in lilly white , And in her right hand bore a cup of gold , With wine and water fild up to the hight , In which a serpent did himselfe enfold , That horrour made to ...
... round about her head did shine like Hevens light . She was araied all in lilly white , And in her right hand bore a cup of gold , With wine and water fild up to the hight , In which a serpent did himselfe enfold , That horrour made to ...
Page 36
... round about us plant ; And all for love and nothing for reward : O , why should heavenly God to men have such regard ? SONNET XXVI . Sweet is the rose , but grows upon a brere ; 1 Sweet is the juniper , but sharp his bough ; Sweet is ...
... round about us plant ; And all for love and nothing for reward : O , why should heavenly God to men have such regard ? SONNET XXVI . Sweet is the rose , but grows upon a brere ; 1 Sweet is the juniper , but sharp his bough ; Sweet is ...
Page 54
... round about her mighty thunders sound : Impatient of himself lies pining by Pale Sickness , with her kercher'd head up wound , And thousand noisome plagues attend her round . But if her cloudy brow but once grow foul , The flints do ...
... round about her mighty thunders sound : Impatient of himself lies pining by Pale Sickness , with her kercher'd head up wound , And thousand noisome plagues attend her round . But if her cloudy brow but once grow foul , The flints do ...
Page 55
Aubrey Thomas De Vere. Whose ragged flesh and clothes did well agree : And round about , amazed Horror flies , And over all , Shame veils his guilty eyes , And underneath , Hell's hungry throat still yawning lies . Upon two stony tables ...
Aubrey Thomas De Vere. Whose ragged flesh and clothes did well agree : And round about , amazed Horror flies , And over all , Shame veils his guilty eyes , And underneath , Hell's hungry throat still yawning lies . Upon two stony tables ...
Page 57
... round about the waving sea were shed : But for the silver sands , small pearls were sprinkled . So curiously the underwork did creep , And curling circlets so well shadowed lay , That afar off the waters seem'd to sleep ; But those that ...
... round about the waving sea were shed : But for the silver sands , small pearls were sprinkled . So curiously the underwork did creep , And curling circlets so well shadowed lay , That afar off the waters seem'd to sleep ; But those that ...
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Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed. by A. de Vere Aubrey Thomas De Vere Aucun aperçu disponible - 2016 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
beauty BEN JONSON beneath birds born A.D. bosom breast breath bright Castara Chaucer clouds customed hill dark dead dear death deep delight died A.D. dost doth dream dull earth dwelling earth English poetry eyes fair fame fancy flowers genius GILES FLETCHER glory Gondibert grace grave green happy hast hath hear heart heaven hills honour hour Idlesse king light living looks Lord Lord Byron lyre morning mortal nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er PHILIP MASSINGER pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise rills rise rocks rose round Samian wine shade shine sigh sight silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stream sweet sweet oblivion tears Tell tempest thee thine things thou art thought trees unto vale vex'd virgin voice wave wind wings woods wouldst youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 253 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Page 254 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy...
Page 252 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Page 248 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 47 - The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Page 18 - And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle...
Page 94 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Page 149 - The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death...
Page 152 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew. Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Page 44 - Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.