A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations: Comprising the Most Excellent and Appropriate Passages in the Old British Poets; with Choice and Copious Selections from the Best Modern British and American PoetsJ. B. Lippincott & Company, 1855 - 570 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 100 találatból.
13. oldal
... happy - need I now ? Byron's Giaour . One thought alone he could not - dared not meet . " Oh how these tidings will Medora greet ? " Then - only then - his clanking hands he raised And strain'd with rage the chain on which he gaz'd ...
... happy - need I now ? Byron's Giaour . One thought alone he could not - dared not meet . " Oh how these tidings will Medora greet ? " Then - only then - his clanking hands he raised And strain'd with rage the chain on which he gaz'd ...
24. oldal
... happy hours in joy and hymning spent . Milton's Paradise Lost . Angels , contented with their fame in heaven , Scek not the praise of men . Madness and anger differ but in this , This is short madness , that long anger is . Charles ...
... happy hours in joy and hymning spent . Milton's Paradise Lost . Angels , contented with their fame in heaven , Scek not the praise of men . Madness and anger differ but in this , This is short madness , that long anger is . Charles ...
27. oldal
... happy lot ! ' Tis bought , lock'd up , and lics forgot . 27 Prior's Alma . He had a routh o ' auld nick - nackets , Rusty airn caps , and jinglin jackets ; Would held the Loudons three in tackets A towmond gude ; Shaks . Merchant of ...
... happy lot ! ' Tis bought , lock'd up , and lics forgot . 27 Prior's Alma . He had a routh o ' auld nick - nackets , Rusty airn caps , and jinglin jackets ; Would held the Loudons three in tackets A towmond gude ; Shaks . Merchant of ...
30. oldal
... happy warrior ? who is he That every man in arms should wish to be ? -It is the generous spirit who hath wrought Among the plans of real life . ' Tis he whose law is reason ; who depends Upon that law as on his best of friends . -Who if ...
... happy warrior ? who is he That every man in arms should wish to be ? -It is the generous spirit who hath wrought Among the plans of real life . ' Tis he whose law is reason ; who depends Upon that law as on his best of friends . -Who if ...
35. oldal
... happy time , Best portion of the various year , in which Nature rejoiceth , smiling on her works , Lovely , to full perfection wrought . eyes ! Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods . AVARICE . Moore . Wordsworth ...
... happy time , Best portion of the various year , in which Nature rejoiceth , smiling on her works , Lovely , to full perfection wrought . eyes ! Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods . AVARICE . Moore . Wordsworth ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Bailey's Festus beauty blood breast breath bright Butler's Hudibras Byron's Childe Harold charm clouds Coriolanus Cowper's Task dark death Doge of Venice doth dream Dryden's earth Eliza Cook ev'ry eyes fair fame fear feel flowers fools gentle Gentlemen of Verona Giaour glory grave grief Hamlet hand happy hath heart heaven Henry Henry IV Henry VI honour hope hour Jane Shore Joanna Baillie's Julius Cæsar King light live look lord lov'd Macbeth Merchant of Venice Milton's Paradise Lost mind Miss Landon nature ne'er never O. W. Holmes o'er Othello pain passion peace Pindar pleasure Poems Pope's pride Richard Richard III Romeo and Juliet Rowe's Scott's Shaks sigh sleep smile soft sorrow soul Spenser's Fairy Queen spirit sweet tears thee thine things Thomson's Seasons thou art tongue truth Venice virtue wind wretched Young's Night Thoughts youth
Népszerű szakaszok
179. oldal - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
204. oldal - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
154. oldal - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
524. oldal - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
204. oldal - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age and dust ; Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust.
453. oldal - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
102. oldal - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...
16. oldal - This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
208. oldal - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
483. oldal - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.