English Verse: Translations (Google eBook)

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William James Linton, Richard Henry Stoddard
Kegan Paul, Trench, 1890 - English poetry
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Page 43 - Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, Happier than the happiest king ! All the fields which thou dost see, All the plants belong to thee : All that summer hours produce, Fertile made with early juice. Man for thee does sow and plough, Farmer he, and landlord thou ! Thou dost innocently enjoy, Nor does thy luxury destroy.
Page 301 - I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the Goods they sell. LXXII Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
Page 301 - Ah Love ? could thou and I with Fate conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits— and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire.
Page 45 - The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again. The plants suck in the earth, and are With constant drinking fresh and fair. The sea itself, which one would think Should have but little need of drink, Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup. The busy sun (and one would guess...
Page xvii - Milton was the poetical son of Spenser, and Mr. Waller of Fairfax, for we have our lineal descents and clans as well as other families. Spenser more than once insinuates that the soul of Chaucer was transfused into his body, and that he was begotten by him two hundred years after his decease.
Page xvi - How long may it be before this misconception passes away, and it becomes universally acknowledged that the...
Page 258 - The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar, The damsel paces along the shore ; The billows they tumble with might, with might; And she flings out her voice to the darksome night ; Her bosom is swelling with sorrow ; The world it is empty, the heart will die, There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky : Thou Holy One, call thy child away ! I've lived and loved, and that was to-day — Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow.* * I found it not in my power...
Page 222 - MICHAEL And tempests in contention roar From land to sea, from sea to land ; And, raging, weave a chain of power, Which girds the earth, as with a band. A flashing desolation there Flames before the thunder's way ; But thy servants, Lord, revere The gentle changes of thy day. CHORUS OF THE THREE The Angels draw strength from thy glance, Though no one comprehend thee may ; Thy world's unwithered countenance Is bright as on creation's day. Enter MEPHISTOPHELES MEPHISTOPHELES As thou, O Lord, once more...
Page 181 - Large, large affliction unto me and mine it is That one of his majestic bearing, his fair stately form, Should thus be tortured and o'erborne; that this unsparing storm Should wreak its wrath on head like his ! That his great hand, so oft the avenger of the oppressed, Should this chill churlish...
Page 71 - WHEN winds that move not its calm surface sweep The azure sea, I love the land no more; The smiles of the serene and tranquil deep Tempt my unquiet mind. — But when the roar Of ocean's gray abyss resounds, and foam Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst...

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