The English Poets, Volume 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 - English poetry |
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Page 14
... doth rise , Doth ask a drink divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope , that there It could not withered be . But thou ...
... doth rise , Doth ask a drink divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope , that there It could not withered be . But thou ...
Page 15
... doth not stroke me , nor the other strike . ON LUCY , COUNTESS OF BEDFORD . This morning , timely rapt with holy fire , I thought to form unto my zealous Muse , What kind of creature I could most desire To honour , serve , and love , as ...
... doth not stroke me , nor the other strike . ON LUCY , COUNTESS OF BEDFORD . This morning , timely rapt with holy fire , I thought to form unto my zealous Muse , What kind of creature I could most desire To honour , serve , and love , as ...
Page 16
... doth lie As much beauty as could die : Which in life did harbour give To more virtue than doth live . These children ( called in the next reign Children of Her Majesty's Revels ) were trained up to act before the Queen . Salathiel had ...
... doth lie As much beauty as could die : Which in life did harbour give To more virtue than doth live . These children ( called in the next reign Children of Her Majesty's Revels ) were trained up to act before the Queen . Salathiel had ...
Page 17
... doth die ; And this security , It is the common moth That eats on wits and arts , and [ that ] 1 destroys them both . Are all the Aonian springs Dried up ? lies Thespia waste ? Doth Clarius ' harp want strings , That not a nymph now ...
... doth die ; And this security , It is the common moth That eats on wits and arts , and [ that ] 1 destroys them both . Are all the Aonian springs Dried up ? lies Thespia waste ? Doth Clarius ' harp want strings , That not a nymph now ...
Page 18
... doth ne'er advance The truth , but gropes , and urgeth all by chance ; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise , And think to ruin where it seemed to raise . These are , as some infámous bawd or whore Should praise a matron ; what ...
... doth ne'er advance The truth , but gropes , and urgeth all by chance ; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise , And think to ruin where it seemed to raise . These are , as some infámous bawd or whore Should praise a matron ; what ...
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Common terms and phrases
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw crown death delight died divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Inner Temple Jonson King Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise reign rose sacred shade shalt shepherds shine sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton weep winds wings write youth
Popular passages
Page 311 - And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Page 348 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide ; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Page 10 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 333 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Page 214 - 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 174 - 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 450 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace ; A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
Page 297 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
Page 353 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring.
Page 320 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days : But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise...