A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations: Comprising the Most Excellent and Appropriate Passages in the Old British Poets; with Choice and Copious Selections from the Best Modern British and American PoetsJ. B. Lippincott & Company, 1855 - Počet stran: 570 |
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Strana 8
... sweet it is to tell the list'ning night Pope's Eloisa . The name beloved . It is a spell of power To wake the buried slumberers of the heart , Where memory lingers o'er the grave of passion Watching its tranced sleep . Suckling her babe ...
... sweet it is to tell the list'ning night Pope's Eloisa . The name beloved . It is a spell of power To wake the buried slumberers of the heart , Where memory lingers o'er the grave of passion Watching its tranced sleep . Suckling her babe ...
Strana 18
... sweet fruition of a heav'nly crown . Marlo's 1st part of Tamerlane the Great . Who soars too near the sun , with golden wings , Melts them ; -to ruin his own fortune brings . Shaks . Cromwell . Thriftless ambition ! that will ravin up ...
... sweet fruition of a heav'nly crown . Marlo's 1st part of Tamerlane the Great . Who soars too near the sun , with golden wings , Melts them ; -to ruin his own fortune brings . Shaks . Cromwell . Thriftless ambition ! that will ravin up ...
Strana 43
... sweet love , is like the morning dew , Whose short refresh upon the tender green , Cheers for a time , but till the sun doth show ; And straight is gone , as it had never been . Daniel . Nature was here so lavish of her store , That she ...
... sweet love , is like the morning dew , Whose short refresh upon the tender green , Cheers for a time , but till the sun doth show ; And straight is gone , as it had never been . Daniel . Nature was here so lavish of her store , That she ...
Strana 44
... sweet neglect more taketh me , Than all the adulteries of art ; That strike mine eyes but not my heart . Ben Johnson . Beauty is nature's coin , must not be hoarded , But must be current , and the good thereof Consists in mutual and ...
... sweet neglect more taketh me , Than all the adulteries of art ; That strike mine eyes but not my heart . Ben Johnson . Beauty is nature's coin , must not be hoarded , But must be current , and the good thereof Consists in mutual and ...
Strana 48
... sweet repose , where , by th ' oblivious draught Of each sad toilsome day to peace restor❜d , Unhappy mortals lose their wocs awhile ; Thou hast no peace for me ! Is eaten with the rust of idleness . Jonson's Every Man in his Humour ...
... sweet repose , where , by th ' oblivious draught Of each sad toilsome day to peace restor❜d , Unhappy mortals lose their wocs awhile ; Thou hast no peace for me ! Is eaten with the rust of idleness . Jonson's Every Man in his Humour ...
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Bailey's Festus beauty blood breast breath bright Butler's Hudibras Byron's Childe Harold charm clouds Coriolanus Cowper's Task dark death Doge of Venice doth dream Dryden's earth Eliza Cook ev'ry eyes fair fame fear feel flowers fools gentle Gentlemen of Verona Giaour glory grave grief Hamlet hand happy hath heart heaven Henry Henry IV Henry VI honour hope hour Jane Shore Joanna Baillie's Julius Cæsar King light live look lord lov'd Macbeth Merchant of Venice Milton's Paradise Lost mind Miss Landon nature ne'er never O. W. Holmes o'er Othello pain passion peace Pindar pleasure Poems Pope's pride Richard Richard III Romeo and Juliet Rowe's Scott's Shaks sigh sleep smile soft sorrow soul Spenser's Fairy Queen spirit sweet tears thee thine things Thomson's Seasons thou art tongue truth Venice virtue wind wretched Young's Night Thoughts youth
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 179 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Strana 204 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Strana 154 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Strana 524 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Strana 204 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age and dust ; Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust.
Strana 453 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Strana 102 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...
Strana 16 - 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 208 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Strana 483 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.