British Anthologies, Volume 6Edward Arber Henry Frowde, 1899 - English poetry |
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Results 1-5 of 38
Page 8
... thoughts dally with false surmise ! Ay me ! whilst thee , the shores and sounding seas Wash far away : where'er thy bones are hurled , ( Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides ; Where thou , perhaps , under the whelming tide , Visit'st the ...
... thoughts dally with false surmise ! Ay me ! whilst thee , the shores and sounding seas Wash far away : where'er thy bones are hurled , ( Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides ; Where thou , perhaps , under the whelming tide , Visit'st the ...
Page 9
... thought warbling his Doric Lay . And now the sun had stretched out all the hills ; And now was dropped into the western bay . At last , he rose , and twitched his mantle blue ; To - morrow , to fresh woods and pastures new ! L ' ALLEGRO ...
... thought warbling his Doric Lay . And now the sun had stretched out all the hills ; And now was dropped into the western bay . At last , he rose , and twitched his mantle blue ; To - morrow , to fresh woods and pastures new ! L ' ALLEGRO ...
Page 29
... thoughts lie wide of mine , Let me alone , with mine own heart ; And I'll ne'er envy thine ! Nor blame him , whoe'er blames my wit ; That seeks no higher prize Than , in unenvied shades , to sit And sing of CHLORIS ' eyes . TO THE FIVE ...
... thoughts lie wide of mine , Let me alone , with mine own heart ; And I'll ne'er envy thine ! Nor blame him , whoe'er blames my wit ; That seeks no higher prize Than , in unenvied shades , to sit And sing of CHLORIS ' eyes . TO THE FIVE ...
Page 33
... thought ! And with as active vigour run My course , as doth the nimble sun ! Sleep is a death ! O , make me try , By sleeping , what it is to die ! And as gently lay my head Upon my grave , as , now , my bed ! Howe'er I rest , great GOD ...
... thought ! And with as active vigour run My course , as doth the nimble sun ! Sleep is a death ! O , make me try , By sleeping , what it is to die ! And as gently lay my head Upon my grave , as , now , my bed ! Howe'er I rest , great GOD ...
Page 48
... thought ! ) a Separatist ! ANARCHUS . Thou art the Spawn of Antichrist ; And so is this , thy brother ! Thou art a Man of BELIAL ; And he is such another ! I say , thou art a Priest of BAAL ; And , surely , I defy thee ! TO SATAN , I ...
... thought ! ) a Separatist ! ANARCHUS . Thou art the Spawn of Antichrist ; And so is this , thy brother ! Thou art a Man of BELIAL ; And he is such another ! I say , thou art a Priest of BAAL ; And , surely , I defy thee ! TO SATAN , I ...
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Common terms and phrases
ANARCHUS ANTHOLOGY beauty best fits breast bright cheek CHERRY RIPE CHLORIS Crown 8vo CUPID curchy dare dart death delight dost doth Duchess of Newcastle earth Edited Extra fcap eyes fair fair Ladies fate fear fire fits a little flame flowers give grace hair hath heart Heaven his soul HERRICK Hesperides home in peace Honour India Paper King comes home kiss Lady Leather Bottel lips Love's Lover LYCIDAS Maid Margaret Cavendish MASTER HUMPHREY Maypole Mistress Muscadel ne'er never night o'er Oxford India Paper PHILARCHUS PHILORTHUS pity play pleasures Poems powerful noise praise roses scorn shine sighs sing smile soul may dwell stars sweet tears tell thee thine things Thomas Washbourne thou art thou shalt TIBULLUS W. W. SKEAT wanton weep Whilst wind wine wings wish in Heaven wound Youth
Popular passages
Page 24 - And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Page 21 - There held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast. And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing...
Page 8 - And all their echoes mourn. The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
Page 23 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But, O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ! Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing "Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made hell grant what love did seek...
Page 7 - Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due...
Page 13 - Through the dear might of him that walked the waves, Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexprcssive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
Page 19 - And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Page 55 - 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.
Page 7 - And, as he passes, turn And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud ! For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill...
Page 18 - And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold...