The Indicator, 1. kötetLeigh Hunt J. Appleyard, 1820 |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 63 találatból.
6. oldal
... Italian writers are so fond of it , that they have sonnets called Polyphemic sonnets . Raphael painted a beautiful pic- ture of Galatea triumphing on the waters , of which there are many engravings . And Handel finished the homage of ...
... Italian writers are so fond of it , that they have sonnets called Polyphemic sonnets . Raphael painted a beautiful pic- ture of Galatea triumphing on the waters , of which there are many engravings . And Handel finished the homage of ...
9. oldal
... Italians do in their summer - shade . We do not enjoy our sunshine as we ought : our climate in general seems to ... Italy are almost all summer - houses , letting in the air on every side ; so that when a fit of cold weather comes ...
... Italians do in their summer - shade . We do not enjoy our sunshine as we ought : our climate in general seems to ... Italy are almost all summer - houses , letting in the air on every side ; so that when a fit of cold weather comes ...
12. oldal
... Italian writers . It makes a lovely figure in one of the most famous passages of Ariosto , where he describes the beauty of Alcina ( Orlando Furioso , Canto 7. st . 14 . ) - Blanca neve e il bel collo , el petto latte : Il collo è tondo ...
... Italian writers . It makes a lovely figure in one of the most famous passages of Ariosto , where he describes the beauty of Alcina ( Orlando Furioso , Canto 7. st . 14 . ) - Blanca neve e il bel collo , el petto latte : Il collo è tondo ...
13. oldal
... Italy ; of Bembo , one of the most liberal and accomplished of cardinals ; of Paul Sarpi , who kept his countrymen ... Italian poets ; but political trouble has dashed the spirits even of the Vene- tian gondolier , and he is now ...
... Italy ; of Bembo , one of the most liberal and accomplished of cardinals ; of Paul Sarpi , who kept his countrymen ... Italian poets ; but political trouble has dashed the spirits even of the Vene- tian gondolier , and he is now ...
14. oldal
... Italians call Brio , -a certain sparkling of the animal spirits . A quintessence of this quality would seem to ... Italian gentleman , when asked his opinion of this mystery , thought it explained by the great mixture of Turkish ...
... Italians call Brio , -a certain sparkling of the animal spirits . A quintessence of this quality would seem to ... Italian gentleman , when asked his opinion of this mystery , thought it explained by the great mixture of Turkish ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
admiration Alcmena appears Ariosto arriving round beautiful Ben Jonson better body busie curious eye C. H. REYNELL called Catherine-street Cephalus Dæmon death delight divine doth flie face fair fancy Farinonna father favourite fear feel flowers Galatea gentle gentleman give grace hand happy head heard heart heaven honour horse human imagination INDICATOR Italian JOSEPH APPLEYARD kind king kiss lady Lamia lived look Lord lover melancholy mind nature never Newsmen night nymph Orders received Ovid pain perhaps Petrarch pleasant pleasure poet poetry Printed by C. H. Procris Pygmalion reader Rhampsinitus round about doth seems Shakspeare shew sleep speak SPENSER spirit stick story Strand.-Price survey with busie sweet takes survey Tasso tasteth tenderly Tavistock tears tell thee Theocritus thing thou thought told Triptolemus Turks turn Venice voice word young
Népszerű szakaszok
3. oldal - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank* Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines...
347. oldal - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair ; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
344. oldal - Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away : Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day ; Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
347. oldal - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades : Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — do I wake or sleep?
345. oldal - Ode to a Nightingale 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.
88. oldal - THE fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine?
347. oldal - There was a listening fear in her regard, As if calamity had but begun; As if the vanward clouds of evil days Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
11. oldal - Give me leave To enjoy myself : that place that does contain My books, the best companions, is to me A glorious court, where hourly I converse With the old sages and philosophers ; And sometimes, for variety, I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels ; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account, and, in my fancy, Deface their ill-plac'd statues.
44. oldal - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
189. oldal - Sirens' harmony, That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, And sing to those that hold the vital shears, And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of Gods and men is wound. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, To lull the daughters of Necessity, And keep unsteady Nature to her law, And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune, which none can hear Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear...