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Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A Selection of the Choicest ..., Том 1
Повний перегляд - 1853
appear bear beauty better body born called cause character comes common court death delight died doth earth England English eyes face fair fall fear fire flowers give grace ground hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry honour hope Italy John keep kind king lady land language learning leave less light live look Lord manner master means mind nature never night noble pass person play pleasure poem poet poetry poor present published Queen reason reign rest rich rise seems seen sing song soul speak spirit style sweet taste tell thee things thou thought translation true unto whole wind wise writer written young youth
Сторінка 108 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Сторінка 106 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Сторінка 335 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled Dawn doth rise...
Сторінка 84 - 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.
Сторінка 108 - Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat — Come hither, come hither, come hither ! Here shall we see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i...
Сторінка 184 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins: Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we...
Сторінка 186 - She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners...
Сторінка 119 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! Heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Сторінка 366 - A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound! With ravish'd ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god; Aflects to nod And seems to shake the spheres. The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung : Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young: The jolly god in triumph comes ! Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!
Сторінка 172 - And then thou must be damn'd perpetually! Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of Heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair 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!