The Poetry and Poets of Britain from Chaucer to Tennyson: With Biographical Sketches, and a Rapid View of the Characteristic Attributes of Each; Preceded by an Introductory Essay on the Origin and Progress of English Poetical Literature
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ancient beauty behold Ben Jonson blood breath bright Brutus CANTO century Chaucer court dark DAVID LYNDSAY death delight doth dread Dryden earth English English poetry eternal eyes fair father fear flowers Giles Fletcher give gold golden grace Greek hand hast hath head heart Heaven heavenly Hell hence hill honour Hudibras James Johnson king Lady language Lear light literature live look Lord lost Lycidas Macb Macbeth Macd Milton mind MIRROR FOR MAGISTRATES muse nature never night noble o'er Othello Ovid PARADISE PARADISE LOST poem poet poetical poetry praise prince Queen racter reign Saxon Scotland seems Shakespeare sight silver chair sleep song soul sound spirit sweet tears tell temple Thane thee thine things thought throne tongue unto Vent versification Warton word writers youth
Page 120 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them ? — To die, — to sleep, — No more ; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, — to sleep ; — To sleep ! perchance to dream : — ay, there's the rub ; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come. When we have shuffled off this mortal...
Page 109 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep!
Page 120 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page 109 - I have pass'da miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days : So full of dismal terror was the time.
Page 192 - Dove-like, sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark Illumine; what is low, raise and support; That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.
Page 371 - THERE was a time when meadow, grove and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Page 180 - For, if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the age of gold; And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould...
Page 248 - And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods.