Lives of the English Sacred Poets, Volume 1 (Google eBook)

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J.W. Parker, 1839 - Poets, English
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Page 108 - By a daisy whose leaves spread Shut when Titan goes to bed ; Or a shady bush or tree, She could more infuse in me, Than all Nature's beauties can, In some other wiser man.
Page 106 - 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 4 - Immediately a place Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark; A lazar-house it seemed, wherein were laid Numbers of all diseased, all maladies Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony; all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums.
Page 206 - Cause my speech is now decayed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When, God knows, I'm tossed about Either with despair, or doubt, Yet before the glass be out, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the Tempter me pursu'th With the sins of all my youth, And half damns me with untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
Page 247 - However, I need not their help to reprove the vanity of those many love-poems, that are daily writ, and consecrated to Venus ; nor to bewail that so few are writ, that look towards God and Heaven. For my own part, my meaning dear Mother is, in these Sonnets, to declare my resolution to be, that my poor abilities in Poetry, shall be all and ever consecrated to God's glory: and I beg you to receive this as one testimony.
Page 290 - LIFE. I MADE a posy, while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band.
Page 265 - THE merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together, where I lay, And all in sport to jeer at me. First, Beauty crept into a rose ; Which when I pluckt not, Sir, said she, Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those ? But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then Money came, and chinking still, What tune is this, poor man ? said he : I heard in Music you had skill: But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.
Page 275 - 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...
Page 108 - Some things that may sweeten gladness, In the very gall of sadness. The dull loneness, the black shade, That these hanging vaults have made, The strange music of the waves, Beating on these hollow caves, This black den which rocks emboss Overgrown with eldest moss : The rude portals that give light More to Terror than Delight : This my chamber of Neglect, Wall'd about with Disrespect ; From all these and this dull air, A fit object for despair, She hath taught me by her might To draw comfort and...
Page 82 - The garden like a lady fair was cut, That lay as if she slumbered in delight, And to the open skies her eyes did shut. The azure fields of Heaven were 'sembled right In a large round set with the flowers of light. The flowers de luce and the round sparks of dew That hung upon their azure leaves did shew Like twinkling stars that sparkle in the evening blue.

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