Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British Authors, with Specimens of Their Writings, Tom 1Robert Chambers, Robert Carruthers W. & R. Chambers, 1876 |
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Strona x
... Land ' DUKE OF BUCKinghamshire ( 1649—1721 ) . Extract from the Essay on Poetry .. ...... MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . From SANDYs's Version of the Nineteenth Psalm . The Old Man's Wish , by DR Walter Pope .. 303 ALGERNON SIDNEY ( circa 1621 ...
... Land ' DUKE OF BUCKinghamshire ( 1649—1721 ) . Extract from the Essay on Poetry .. ...... MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . From SANDYs's Version of the Nineteenth Psalm . The Old Man's Wish , by DR Walter Pope .. 303 ALGERNON SIDNEY ( circa 1621 ...
Strona 6
... land ) , who was named Layamon ; he was son of Leovenath , may the Lord be gracious to him ! -he dwelt at Ernley , at a noble church upon Severn's bank - good it there seemed to him - near Radestone , where he books read . It came to ...
... land ) , who was named Layamon ; he was son of Leovenath , may the Lord be gracious to him ! -he dwelt at Ernley , at a noble church upon Severn's bank - good it there seemed to him - near Radestone , where he books read . It came to ...
Strona 10
... land , truely to tell , Ordains he still for to dwell To time 3 he think to fight . Now God , that is of mightés mast , Grant him grace of the Holy Ghast His heritage to win ; And Mary Moder , of mercy free , Save our king and his menzé ...
... land , truely to tell , Ordains he still for to dwell To time 3 he think to fight . Now God , that is of mightés mast , Grant him grace of the Holy Ghast His heritage to win ; And Mary Moder , of mercy free , Save our king and his menzé ...
Strona 19
... land , of crowing n'as his peer . His voice was merrier than the merry organ , On massé - days that in the churché gon ; Well sickerer was his crowing in his lodge , Than is a clock , or an abbey horologe , By nature knew he each ...
... land , of crowing n'as his peer . His voice was merrier than the merry organ , On massé - days that in the churché gon ; Well sickerer was his crowing in his lodge , Than is a clock , or an abbey horologe , By nature knew he each ...
Strona 20
... land amonges you , He can me keep from harm and eke from shame In the salt sea , although I see not how : As strong as ever he was , he is yet now : In him trust I , and in his mother dear , That is to me my sail and eke my steer ...
... land amonges you , He can me keep from harm and eke from shame In the salt sea , although I see not how : As strong as ever he was , he is yet now : In him trust I , and in his mother dear , That is to me my sail and eke my steer ...
Inne wydania - Wyświetl wszystko
Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ... Robert Chambers Widok fragmentu - 1876 |
Chambers's Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ... Robert Chambers,Robert Carruthers Podgląd niedostępny - 2015 |
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Popularne fragmenty
Strona 277 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Strona 329 - Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
Strona 382 - I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Strona 150 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii. Look ! in this place, ran Cassius...
Strona 276 - MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Strona 95 - Sigh, no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea, and one on shore ; To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny ; Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Strona 149 - Therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.
Strona 330 - And yet on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book: who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.
Strona 148 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.
Strona 231 - Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then...