Kentish Poets: A Series of Writers in English Poetry, Natives of Or Residents in the County of Kent; with Specimens of Their Compositions, and Some Account of Their Lives and Writings, Volumes 1-2 |
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Page 135
Fear is more pain , than is the pain it fears , Disarming human minds of native
might : While each conceit an ugly figure bears , Which were not ill well viewed in
reason's light . Our owly eyes , which dimmed by passions be , And scarce
discern ...
Fear is more pain , than is the pain it fears , Disarming human minds of native
might : While each conceit an ugly figure bears , Which were not ill well viewed in
reason's light . Our owly eyes , which dimmed by passions be , And scarce
discern ...
Page 141
No more then remember we our pains ; our shipwrecks and dangers are
forgotten ; we fear no more the travels nor the thieves . Contrariwise , we
approach death as an extreme pain , we doubt it as a rock , we fly it as a thief .
We do as little ...
No more then remember we our pains ; our shipwrecks and dangers are
forgotten ; we fear no more the travels nor the thieves . Contrariwise , we
approach death as an extreme pain , we doubt it as a rock , we fly it as a thief .
We do as little ...
Page 142
week run up and down the streets with pain of the teeth , and seeing the barber
coming to pull them out , feel no more pain . We fear more the cure than the
disease ; the surgeon than the pain . We have more sense of the medicine's
bitterness ...
week run up and down the streets with pain of the teeth , and seeing the barber
coming to pull them out , feel no more pain . We fear more the cure than the
disease ; the surgeon than the pain . We have more sense of the medicine's
bitterness ...
Page 283
... And deep into the earth digs back with pain : From hell his gold he brings , and
hoards in hell again . His clothes all patch'd with more than honest thrift , And
clouted shoes were nail'd for fear of wasting ; Fasting he prais'd , but sparing was
...
... And deep into the earth digs back with pain : From hell his gold he brings , and
hoards in hell again . His clothes all patch'd with more than honest thrift , And
clouted shoes were nail'd for fear of wasting ; Fasting he prais'd , but sparing was
...
Page 33
his saddle , and forgot his pain . He pursued his servant so eagerly , that he
overtook him two or three posts off , - recovered his portmanteau , and soon after
complained of a vast pain in one of his feet , and fainted away with t . When they ...
his saddle , and forgot his pain . He pursued his servant so eagerly , that he
overtook him two or three posts off , - recovered his portmanteau , and soon after
complained of a vast pain in one of his feet , and fainted away with t . When they ...
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Kentish Poets: A Series of Writers in English Poetry, Natives ..., Volumes 1-2 Rowland Freeman No preview available - 2015 |
Kentish Poets. a Series of Writers in English Poetry, Natives of Or ... Rowland Freeman No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
appear bear beauty born bright called character court dear death delight desire divine doth Earl earth English eyes face fair fall father fear fire give grace hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry honour hope John Kent kind King lady late learned leave letter light live look Lord means mind muse nature never night o'er once original pain pass passion peace perhaps person plain play poem poet poetical praise present published Queen rest rich rise round sacred seems shade Sidney sight sing song soon soul sound speak spring sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought translation true verse virtue whole winds wish writer written young youth
Popular passages
Page 192 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 249 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will, Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!
Page 61 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Page 23 - And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay ! And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath loved thee so long In wealth and woe among : And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay...
Page 147 - Shepherds, weep no more ! For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Page 184 - At cards for kisses — Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me? THE SONGS OF BIRDS What bird so sings, yet...
Page 21 - Now cease, my lute, this is the last Labour, that thou and I shall waste; And ended is that we begun : Now is this song both sung and past; My lute, be still, for I have done.
Page 250 - Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill! Whose passions not his masters...
Page 246 - Nature seem'd in love: The lusty sap began to move; Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines, And birds had drawn their valentines, The jealous Trout, that low did lie, Rose at a well dissembled fly; There stood my friend with patient skill, Attending of his trembling quill.
Page 215 - ... the wood, That warble forth Dame Nature's lays, Thinking your passions understood By your weak accents; what's your praise, When Philomel her voice shall raise? You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own, What are you, when the Rose is blown? So when my Mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not designed Th' eclipse and glory...
Bibliographic information
| Title | Kentish Poets: A Series of Writers in English Poetry, Natives of Or Residents in the County of Kent; with Specimens of Their Compositions, and Some Account of Their Lives and Writings, Volumes 1-2 Kentish Poets: A Series of Writers in English Poetry, Natives of Or Residents in the County of Kent; with Specimens of Their Compositions, and Some Account of Their Lives and Writings, Rowland Freeman |
| Author | Rowland Freeman |
| Publisher | G. Wood, 1821 |
| Original from | Harvard University |
| Digitized | 2 Oct 2007 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |