Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language,Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1811 - English poetry |
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Page 8
... thought highly of the " Anatomy of Melancholy ; " see Boswell's Life ; and Mr Warton , in his notes to Milton's ... thoughts , expres- “ sions , and rhymes , " from the subsequent specimen . " As to the very elaborate work , ” says Mr ...
... thought highly of the " Anatomy of Melancholy ; " see Boswell's Life ; and Mr Warton , in his notes to Milton's ... thoughts , expres- “ sions , and rhymes , " from the subsequent specimen . " As to the very elaborate work , ” says Mr ...
Page 9
... thoughts on me then tyrannise , Fear and sorrow me surprise ; Whether I tarry still , or go , Methinks the time moves very slow . All my griefs to this are jolly , Nought so sad as melancholy . When to myself I act , and smile , With ...
... thoughts on me then tyrannise , Fear and sorrow me surprise ; Whether I tarry still , or go , Methinks the time moves very slow . All my griefs to this are jolly , Nought so sad as melancholy . When to myself I act , and smile , With ...
Page 11
... thoughts may still my fancy move , may I ever be in love ! So All my joys to this are folly , Nought so sweet as melancholy . When I recount love's many frights , My sighs and tears , my waking nights , My jealous fits ; O mine hard ...
... thoughts may still my fancy move , may I ever be in love ! So All my joys to this are folly , Nought so sweet as melancholy . When I recount love's many frights , My sighs and tears , my waking nights , My jealous fits ; O mine hard ...
Page 22
... die , Led by her passions , so must I : For when of pleasure she doth sing , My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring ; But if she do of sorrow speak , E'en from my heart the strings do break . Of his Mistress's Face . AND would you see my [ 22 ]
... die , Led by her passions , so must I : For when of pleasure she doth sing , My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring ; But if she do of sorrow speak , E'en from my heart the strings do break . Of his Mistress's Face . AND would you see my [ 22 ]
Page 36
... thoughts my memory to wound , I call to mind thy looks , thy words , thy grace- Where thou didst haunt , yet I adore the ground ! And where thou stept - O sacred seems that place ! My solitary walks , my widow'd bed , My dreary sighs ...
... thoughts my memory to wound , I call to mind thy looks , thy words , thy grace- Where thou didst haunt , yet I adore the ground ! And where thou stept - O sacred seems that place ! My solitary walks , my widow'd bed , My dreary sighs ...
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Admet Æneid Anon Beaumont and Fletcher beauty beauty's Biographia Dramatica birds born breast breath Carew Castara chaste Chloris Corpus Christi College court Cupid dear death delight died disdain dost doth earth Edgar Atheling English Exeter College extracted eyes fair fancy fate fear flame Fletcher flowers folly FRANCIS BEAUMONT GILES FLETCHER grace grief happy hath hear heart heaven honour John Hall joys king kiss Laius language leave lips live lord lov'd Love's Love's cruelty lover maid MATTHEW STEVENSON melancholy mind miscellany mistress morning Muses ne'er never night nymph o'er Oxford passion Phillis Picts pleasure poems poet poetry praise pride printed reign rose Saxon says Wood scorn sighs sing smile SONG SONNET sorrow soul specimen spring stanzas star sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought unto wanton weep Whilst wind wings youth
Popular passages
Page 84 - 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 195 - ON A GIRDLE THAT which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind : No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done.
Page 251 - Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison, (Who sees them is undone), For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Catherine pear The side that's next the sun. Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compar'd to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly) ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face ; I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July.
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 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 390 - scape, Rivals and Falsehood soon appear In a more dreadful shape. By such degrees to joy they come, And are so long withstood, So slowly they receive the sum, It hardly does them good. 'Tis cruel to prolong a pain; And to defer a joy, Believe me, gentle Celemene, Offends the winged boy.
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 73 - And Phoebus in his chair Ensaffroning sea and air Makes vanish every star: Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels: The fields...
Page 290 - If I should tell the politic arts To take and keep men's hearts ; The letters, embassies, and spies, The frowns and smiles and flatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries, (Numberless, nameless mysteries...
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.