Chaucer to BurnsWilliam James Linton, Richard Henry Stoddard C. Scribner's Sons, 1883 |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 7 találatból.
58. oldal
... lyre , Seeking to quench in me the noble fire Fed by thy worth , and blinded by thy sight ? And all in vain for while thy breath most sweet With choicest words , thy words with reasons rare , Thy reasons firmly set on virtue's feet ...
... lyre , Seeking to quench in me the noble fire Fed by thy worth , and blinded by thy sight ? And all in vain for while thy breath most sweet With choicest words , thy words with reasons rare , Thy reasons firmly set on virtue's feet ...
152. oldal
... lyre , Your stormy chiding stay ! Let Zephyr only breathe , And with her tresses play , Kissing sometimes those purple ports of death ! The Winds all silent are ; And Phoebus in his chair , Ensaffroning sea and air , Makes vanish every ...
... lyre , Your stormy chiding stay ! Let Zephyr only breathe , And with her tresses play , Kissing sometimes those purple ports of death ! The Winds all silent are ; And Phoebus in his chair , Ensaffroning sea and air , Makes vanish every ...
249. oldal
... lyre : The trembling notes ascend the sky , And heavenly joys inspire . The song began from Jove , Who left his blissful realms above ( Such is the power of mighty Love ) : A dragon's fiery form belied the God , Sublime on radiant ...
... lyre : The trembling notes ascend the sky , And heavenly joys inspire . The song began from Jove , Who left his blissful realms above ( Such is the power of mighty Love ) : A dragon's fiery form belied the God , Sublime on radiant ...
252. oldal
William James Linton, Richard Henry Stoddard. Now strike the golden lyre again ! A louder yet , and yet a louder strain ... lyre , Could swell the soul to rage or kindle soft desire . At last divine Cecilia came , Inventress of the vocal ...
William James Linton, Richard Henry Stoddard. Now strike the golden lyre again ! A louder yet , and yet a louder strain ... lyre , Could swell the soul to rage or kindle soft desire . At last divine Cecilia came , Inventress of the vocal ...
254. oldal
... lyre ; But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher : When to her Organ vocal breath was given An angel heard And straight appear'd , Mistaking earth for heaven . As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move , And sung the ...
... lyre ; But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher : When to her Organ vocal breath was given An angel heard And straight appear'd , Mistaking earth for heaven . As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move , And sung the ...
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Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Ae fond kiss Æneid beauty bel ami BEN JONSON birds bless'd blushing bonnie breast breath bright Cædmon Chaucer cheeks CLORINDA Corydon crown Cuckoo dear death delight divine dost doth earth eyes fair fate fear fire flame flowers FRANCIS DAVISON GILES FLETCHER glory golden grace grief hair hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven heavenly Heigh hither JEAN ELLIOT joys King kiss Lady light lilies lips live look Love is dead Love's lovers Lycidas lyre Maid melancholy merry mind Mistress Muse N'oserez-vous ne'er never night nonny nought numbers Nymphs o'er pity play pleasure poems poet praise Queen RICHARD BROME roses shade shepherds shine sigh sight sing sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul Spring stars stay sweet tears Tell thine thing thou art thought Tottel's Miscellany true love unto verse voice weep wind wings woods wooing o't wrote
Népszerű szakaszok
225. 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.
106. oldal - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
262. oldal - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame...
104. oldal - Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
200. oldal - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
288. oldal - ... eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire ? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with...
111. oldal - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
129. oldal - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
110. oldal - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall out-live this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory.
278. oldal - Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.