English odes, selected by E.W. Gosse |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 19 találatból.
xviii. oldal
... foot The sea poured out , Immortal nourishment supplies ; Thence wealth , and state , And power , and fate , Which Europe reads in George's eyes . The reform which Congreve had vainly attempted was set in xviii INTRODUCTION .
... foot The sea poured out , Immortal nourishment supplies ; Thence wealth , and state , And power , and fate , Which Europe reads in George's eyes . The reform which Congreve had vainly attempted was set in xviii INTRODUCTION .
23. oldal
... But think upon Some other pleasures : these to me are none . Why do I prate Of women , that are things against my fate ? I never mean to wed That torture to my bed . My muse is she My love shall be . Let RANDOLPH . 23.
... But think upon Some other pleasures : these to me are none . Why do I prate Of women , that are things against my fate ? I never mean to wed That torture to my bed . My muse is she My love shall be . Let RANDOLPH . 23.
25. oldal
... But think upon Some other pleasures : these to me are none . Why do I prate Of women , that are things against my fate ? I never mean to wed That torture to my bed . ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY . MILTON . Begun RANDOLPH . 23 133.
... But think upon Some other pleasures : these to me are none . Why do I prate Of women , that are things against my fate ? I never mean to wed That torture to my bed . ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY . MILTON . Begun RANDOLPH . 23 133.
32. oldal
... Fate says No , This must not yet be so ; The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy , That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss ; So both Himself and us to glorify : Yet first , to those ychain'd in sleep , The wakeful trump of doom must ...
... Fate says No , This must not yet be so ; The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy , That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss ; So both Himself and us to glorify : Yet first , to those ychain'd in sleep , The wakeful trump of doom must ...
42. oldal
... fate In words worth dying for he celebrate , Such mournful and such pleasing words As joy to his mother and his mistress grief affords ; He bids him live and grow in fame , Among the stars he sticks his name , The grave can but the ...
... fate In words worth dying for he celebrate , Such mournful and such pleasing words As joy to his mother and his mistress grief affords ; He bids him live and grow in fame , Among the stars he sticks his name , The grave can but the ...
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
angel ANNE KILLIGREW antistrophe Bacchus beneath blessed bliss Boileau bower breath bright CHORUS clouds crown curious fools dark death deep delight divine dost doth dreadful dreams e'er ears earth echo ring epode eternal eyes fair fair music fame fate fear fire flowers foes France glory golden goodly grace hand happy harmony hast hath hear heard heart heaven heavenly holy honour Hyades Hymen kings leave les leopards les monceaux light loud lovely band lyre maid melodious mighty mortal mourn Muse Namur ne'er night numbers nymphs o'er pain Pindar pleasure poem poet praise quire round sacred Sambre sighed and looked sing skies sleep soft solemn song soul sound spirit star sung sweet tears thee thine things thou thought throne Timotheus unto vermil verse voice waves winds wings woods may answer woods them answer
Népszerű szakaszok
218. oldal - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
183. oldal - Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view...
65. oldal - Now strike the golden lyre again ; A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has raised up his head ; As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
185. oldal - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
219. oldal - But when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies ; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
101. oldal - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood. Robed in the sable garb of woe. With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air), And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
207. oldal - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: "Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
22. oldal - This is the month, and this the happy morn Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring...
208. oldal - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
67. oldal - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown ; He raised a mortal to the skies, She drew an angel down.