Poetic Treasures: Or, Passages from the Poets. Chronologically ArrangedWard, Lock & Company, 1881 - 644 pages |
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Results 1-5 of 67
Page xl
... stream of its verse and thought , " link him closely with Pope . The next name that invites our attention is that of Samuel Butler ( 1612-1688 ) , the author of the best burlesque poem in our language . The poem of Hudibras was ...
... stream of its verse and thought , " link him closely with Pope . The next name that invites our attention is that of Samuel Butler ( 1612-1688 ) , the author of the best burlesque poem in our language . The poem of Hudibras was ...
Page 13
... stream ; his cup the bare Of his palm closed ; his bed the hard cold ground . To this poor life was Misery ybound . 3. SLEEP . By him lay heavy sleep , the cousin of death , Flat on the ground , and still as any stone , A very corpse ...
... stream ; his cup the bare Of his palm closed ; his bed the hard cold ground . To this poor life was Misery ybound . 3. SLEEP . By him lay heavy sleep , the cousin of death , Flat on the ground , and still as any stone , A very corpse ...
Page 19
... streams in the firmament ! One drop of blood will save me oh my Christ ! Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ ; Yet will I call on him . Oh , spare me , Lucifer ! Where is it now ? - ' Tis gone ! MARLOWE . 19 The Death of Faustus.
... streams in the firmament ! One drop of blood will save me oh my Christ ! Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ ; Yet will I call on him . Oh , spare me , Lucifer ! Where is it now ? - ' Tis gone ! MARLOWE . 19 The Death of Faustus.
Page 27
... stream , Until the tide doth turn . But when the flame is out , And ebbing wrath doth end ; I turn a late enraged foe Into a quiet friend . And taught with often proof , A temper'd calm I find To be most solace to itself , Best cure for ...
... stream , Until the tide doth turn . But when the flame is out , And ebbing wrath doth end ; I turn a late enraged foe Into a quiet friend . And taught with often proof , A temper'd calm I find To be most solace to itself , Best cure for ...
Page 33
... stream ; Poor deer , quoth he , thou makest a testament As worldlings do , giving thy sum of more To that which had too much . Then , being there alone , Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends ; ' Tis right , quoth he , thus misery ...
... stream ; Poor deer , quoth he , thou makest a testament As worldlings do , giving thy sum of more To that which had too much . Then , being there alone , Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends ; ' Tis right , quoth he , thus misery ...
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Common terms and phrases
beauty birds blest bliss blood blow bosom breast breath bright charms Chaucer Chevy Chase Crazy Jane cried dark dead dear death delight doth dread dream E'en earl Douglas earl Percy earth English poetry Eurydice eyes fair fear flowers frae GILES FLETCHER grace grave green grief hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven honour hope hour Hudibras JOHN GOWER king light live look lord Lycidas lyre maid mind morn muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er pain peace pleasure poetry poets poor praise rill rise ROBERT SOUTHWELL rose round Saint Serf shade sigh sight sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spring stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought tree trembling Twas vale voice wave weep wild wind wings youth
Popular passages
Page 135 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of Knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
Page 531 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 163 - 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 39 - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered, — We few, we happy few, we band of brothers...
Page 85 - 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 50 - Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Page 124 - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Page 120 - 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 had'st 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, —...
Page 483 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle-blade ; And furious every charger neighed To join the dreadful revelry.
Page 22 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.