A dictionary of quotations from the British poets, by the author of The peerage and baronetage charts, &c1824 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 84
Strana 9
... deep , mouth - honour , breath , Which the poor heart would fain deny , and dare not . ALARM . What's the business , That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house ? speak , speak ; - AMBITION . ' Tis a common ...
... deep , mouth - honour , breath , Which the poor heart would fain deny , and dare not . ALARM . What's the business , That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house ? speak , speak ; - AMBITION . ' Tis a common ...
Strana 28
... deep and dreadful organ - pipe , pronounc'd The name of Prosper . O , Brackenbury , I have done these things , - That now give evidence against my soul . Leave her to heaven , And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge , To prick and ...
... deep and dreadful organ - pipe , pronounc'd The name of Prosper . O , Brackenbury , I have done these things , - That now give evidence against my soul . Leave her to heaven , And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge , To prick and ...
Strana 38
... deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ? Ha ! Why I should take it for it cannot be , But I am pigeon - liver'd , and lack gall To make oppression bitter ; or , ere this , I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's ...
... deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ? Ha ! Why I should take it for it cannot be , But I am pigeon - liver'd , and lack gall To make oppression bitter ; or , ere this , I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's ...
Strana 42
... deep dread bolted thunder ? In the most terrible and nimble stroke Of quick , cross lightning ? mine enemy's dog , Though he had bit me , should have stood that night Against my fire . That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not ...
... deep dread bolted thunder ? In the most terrible and nimble stroke Of quick , cross lightning ? mine enemy's dog , Though he had bit me , should have stood that night Against my fire . That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not ...
Strana 43
British poets. Neither bended knees , pure hands held up , Sad sighs , deep groans , nor silver - shedding tears , Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire . My lord of ... deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! No CRUELTY . CURSES . 43.
British poets. Neither bended knees , pure hands held up , Sad sighs , deep groans , nor silver - shedding tears , Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire . My lord of ... deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! No CRUELTY . CURSES . 43.
Obsah
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125 | |
133 | |
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34 | |
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275 | |
1 | |
7 | |
15 | |
21 | |
22 | |
29 | |
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35 | |
42 | |
52 | |
140 | |
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Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
ambition art thou bear beauty blood bosom breath Busiris Cæsar cheek clouds Coriolanus Cowper's Task crown curse dare dead death deeds Doge of Venice dost doth dread dream Dryden's Duke of Guise earth Ev'n eyes fair Fair Penitent fear fool fortune friends gentle give grace grave grief Gustavus Vasa hand Hannah More's happy hate hath Havard's head heart heaven hell honour hour Ibid Jane Shore Joanna Baillie's king Lady Jane Grey live look lord Maturin's Bertram mercy Milton's Paradise Lost mind nature ne'er never noble o'er Otway's pale Paradise Regained passion peace Philotas pity poor Rowe's Sardanapalus Scanderbeg scorn shew sigh slave sleep smile soft sorrow soul speak spirit sweet Tamerlane tears tell thee thine things Thomson's Seasons-Spring thou art thou hast thousand thro tongue Venice Preserved virtue weep wind words wretched Young's Night Thoughts youth
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 52 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep...
Strana 7 - With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Strana 53 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?
Strana 238 - Sleep, O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down. And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Strana 10 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Strana 75 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Strana 46 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
Strana 133 - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Strana 126 - Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : — But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, Where either I must live or bear no life, The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in ! Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin, Ay, there, look grim as hell ! Des.
Strana 145 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.