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85. oldal - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me as I halt by them ; — VOL.
148. oldal - 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.
397. oldal - So cruel prison how could betide, alas, As proud Windsor? where I in lust and joy, With a King's son, my childish years did pass, In greater feast than Priam's sons of Troy.
18. oldal - ... compounding all the materials of fury, havoc, and desolation into one black cloud, he hung for a while on the declivities of the mountains.
401. oldal - He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow ; He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head...
85. oldal - Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, . Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
234. oldal - Observe how parts with parts unite In one harmonious rule of right ; See countless wheels distinctly tend By various laws to one great end : While mighty Alfred's piercing soul Pervades and regulates the whole.
149. oldal - The joys of earth and air are thine entire, That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly; And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire To thy carved acorn-bed to lie. Up with the day, the sun thou welcom'st then, Sport'st in the gilt plaits of his beams; And all these merry days mak'st merry men, Thyself, and melancholy streams.
398. oldal - Wherewith, alas ! reviveth in my breast The sweet accord, such sleeps as yet delight ; The pleasant dreams, the quiet bed of rest ; The secret thoughts, imparted with such trust ; The wanton talk, the divers change of play ; The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just, Wherewith we past the winter night away.