Home Pictures of English Poets, for Fireside and Schoolroom |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 21
Page 14
... bright- ened by frequent tokens of royal favor ; not empty praise merely , but gold and silver , were generously given to the court poet by the brave old king . His cup was full of blessings , but , like other mortals , he was destined ...
... bright- ened by frequent tokens of royal favor ; not empty praise merely , but gold and silver , were generously given to the court poet by the brave old king . His cup was full of blessings , but , like other mortals , he was destined ...
Page 15
... bright ; That of yellownesse had never peere , Ye are my life , ye be my herte's stere , I ween of comfort and good companie , Be heavy again , or else mote I die . " Now purse , thou art to me my live's light And saviour , as downe in ...
... bright ; That of yellownesse had never peere , Ye are my life , ye be my herte's stere , I ween of comfort and good companie , Be heavy again , or else mote I die . " Now purse , thou art to me my live's light And saviour , as downe in ...
Page 30
... bright dawn , and for more than one hundred and fifty years no great poet appeared . He has , With Chaucer , our literature and language had made a burst " which they were not able to maintain . by Warton , been well compared to some ...
... bright dawn , and for more than one hundred and fifty years no great poet appeared . He has , With Chaucer , our literature and language had made a burst " which they were not able to maintain . by Warton , been well compared to some ...
Page 33
... tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale , " or pipes his tender song , " In shadow of a green oak - tree , " marking with red letters those days made bright by the smiles of his true - love . But instead , SPENSER . 33.
... tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale , " or pipes his tender song , " In shadow of a green oak - tree , " marking with red letters those days made bright by the smiles of his true - love . But instead , SPENSER . 33.
Page 40
Kate Sanborn. " Her angel's face , As the great eye of heaven shined bright And made sunshine in the shady place , Did never mortall eye , beholde such heavenly grace ? " He uses a fine metaphor to depict fear : " And troubled blood ...
Kate Sanborn. " Her angel's face , As the great eye of heaven shined bright And made sunshine in the shady place , Did never mortall eye , beholde such heavenly grace ? " He uses a fine metaphor to depict fear : " And troubled blood ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Addison admired Ballymahon beautiful better Burns called Canterbury Tales charming Chaucer child Cowper dear death delight Dryden England English English language eyes Faerie Queene fame father friends gave genius GEOFFREY CHAUCER give Goldsmith grace Griselda hand happy heart heaven honor Italy John Dryden Johnson king knew lady language laughed learned Lichfield literary live London look Lord Lycidas Milton mind moral mother nature never night o'er once Paradise Lost Petrarch play pleasant poem poet poetry poor Pope praise Puritan Queen rhyme SAMUEL JOHNSON satire says seemed Shakespeare sing smile song soon soul Spenser spent story style sweet Swift Tabard tears tell tender thee thing thou thought tion told took Twickenham verse Virgil walk Westminster Abbey wife woman words wretched writing wrote young
Popular passages
Page 275 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere...
Page 205 - Seven years, my lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour.
Page 72 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Page 222 - There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd 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...
Page 74 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude ; And, with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew, Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
Page 222 - Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew; 'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And even the story ran that he could gauge...
Page 275 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or, how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or, rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Page 248 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, ' Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Page 278 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Page 241 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose...