Gleanings from the English poets, Chaucer to Tennyson, with biogr. notices of the authors [by R. Inglis].1862 |
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Seite 52
... Nature's eye , rise , rise again , and make Perpetual day ! or let this hour be but A year , a month , a week , a natural day , That Faustus may repent and save his soul . O lente lente currite , noctis equi . The stars move still ...
... Nature's eye , rise , rise again , and make Perpetual day ! or let this hour be but A year , a month , a week , a natural day , That Faustus may repent and save his soul . O lente lente currite , noctis equi . The stars move still ...
Seite 106
... Nature's womb , that in quaternion run Perpetual circle , multiform ; and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise . Ye mists and exhalations , that now rise From hill or streaming ...
... Nature's womb , that in quaternion run Perpetual circle , multiform ; and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise . Ye mists and exhalations , that now rise From hill or streaming ...
Seite 147
... run popularly mad ? Were he a tyrant , who , by lawless might Oppress'd the Jews and raised the Jebusite , Well might I mourn ; but nature's holy bands Would curb my spirit and restrain my hands : The JOHN DRYDEN . 147.
... run popularly mad ? Were he a tyrant , who , by lawless might Oppress'd the Jews and raised the Jebusite , Well might I mourn ; but nature's holy bands Would curb my spirit and restrain my hands : The JOHN DRYDEN . 147.
Seite 149
... nature's secret head . And found that one first principle must be But what , or who , that UNIVERSAL HE ; Whether some soul incompassing this ball , Unmade , unmoved ; yet making , moving all ; Or various atoms ' interfering dance Leap ...
... nature's secret head . And found that one first principle must be But what , or who , that UNIVERSAL HE ; Whether some soul incompassing this ball , Unmade , unmoved ; yet making , moving all ; Or various atoms ' interfering dance Leap ...
Seite 156
... Nature's mother - wit , and arts unknown before . Let old Timotheus yield the prize , Or both divide the crown : He raised a mortal to the skies ; She drew an angel down . Earl of Roscommon . Born 1635 . Died 1685 . WENTWORTH DILLON ...
... Nature's mother - wit , and arts unknown before . Let old Timotheus yield the prize , Or both divide the crown : He raised a mortal to the skies ; She drew an angel down . Earl of Roscommon . Born 1635 . Died 1685 . WENTWORTH DILLON ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
art thou bawbee beauty beneath blest Born Braes breast breath bright Busk clouds Cockpen cried dark dead dear death deep delight Died doth dread earth Edinburgh Review eternal eyes fair falcon crest fame father fear flowers frae friends gazed glory grace grave green happy harp hast hath hear heart heaven hill hour HYMN Kilmeny land light live Lochaber look Lord maun mind morning mountains Nature's ne'er never night nymph o'er Paradise Lost peace pleasure poems poet poetry praise pride published rest rise Robert Southey Robin Gray rose round Rule Britannia Scotland Scottish shade shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought trembling Twas vale voice wandering wave weary weep wild wind wings Yarrow youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 248 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Seite 425 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes By the deep Sea, and music in its roar : I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Seite 48 - ALL the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Seite 226 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Seite 46 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice...
Seite 248 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Seite 77 - When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
Seite 49 - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Seite 54 - 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. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Seite 229 - THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth a Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown : fair Science...