Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, |
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Page 181
Time is a feather ' d thing , · And , whilst I praise The sparklings of thy looks , and
call them rays , Takes wing ; Leaving behind him , as he flies , An unperceived
dimness in thine eyes . His minutes , whilst they ' re told , Do make us old , And ...
Time is a feather ' d thing , · And , whilst I praise The sparklings of thy looks , and
call them rays , Takes wing ; Leaving behind him , as he flies , An unperceived
dimness in thine eyes . His minutes , whilst they ' re told , Do make us old , And ...
Page 318
Thus , whilst the difference thou shall prove Betwixt a feign ' d and real love ,
Whilst he , more happy , but less true , Shall reap those joys I did pursue , And
with those pleasures crowned be By Fate , which love design ' d for me , Then
thou ...
Thus , whilst the difference thou shall prove Betwixt a feign ' d and real love ,
Whilst he , more happy , but less true , Shall reap those joys I did pursue , And
with those pleasures crowned be By Fate , which love design ' d for me , Then
thou ...
Page 335
By this who does not plainly see , How down our throats at once is hurl ' d ( Whilst
merrily we drinking be ) The quintessence of all the world ? Whilst all drink then
in land , air , sea , Let us too drink as well as they . Invocation of Silence .
By this who does not plainly see , How down our throats at once is hurl ' d ( Whilst
merrily we drinking be ) The quintessence of all the world ? Whilst all drink then
in land , air , sea , Let us too drink as well as they . Invocation of Silence .
Page 366
OD E . Laura Sleeping WINDS , whisper gently whilst she sleeps , And fan her
with your cooling wings , Whilst she her drops of beauty weeps From pure , and
yet - unrivall ' d springs ! Glide over beauty ' s field , her face , To kiss her lip and ...
OD E . Laura Sleeping WINDS , whisper gently whilst she sleeps , And fan her
with your cooling wings , Whilst she her drops of beauty weeps From pure , and
yet - unrivall ' d springs ! Glide over beauty ' s field , her face , To kiss her lip and ...
Page 400
A new life gives to others ' joys , Whilst that I Grief - stricken lie , Nor can meet
With any sweet But what faster mine destroys . What are all the senses '
pleasures , When the mind has lost all measures ? Hear , O hear ! How sweet
and clear The ...
A new life gives to others ' joys , Whilst that I Grief - stricken lie , Nor can meet
With any sweet But what faster mine destroys . What are all the senses '
pleasures , When the mind has lost all measures ? Hear , O hear ! How sweet
and clear The ...
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Common terms and phrases
Anon appear beauty birds born breath bring called cause Charles College court dear death delight desire died doth early earth English epigrams extracted eyes face fair fancy fate fear fire flame flowers give gone grace grief grow hand happy hath hear heart heaven hope joys king language learning leave less light live look lord Love's lover mind morning move Muses Nature ne'er never night once Oxford passion perhaps plays pleasure poems poet poor praise printed prove published reign rest rose scorn seems sense sighs sing smile SONG soon sorrow soul specimen spring star stay sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou thought thousand true volume Whilst wind wings Wood youth
Popular passages
Page 244 - WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Page 31 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Page 278 - 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 275 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Page 277 - Prison WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates — When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Page 194 - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
Page 132 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 85 - I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair! If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve! If she slight me, when I woo, I can scorn, and let her go! For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be?
Page 222 - Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Page 63 - Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.