British Anthologies, Volume 6 |
From inside the book
Page 60
Which , on the shaft that made him die , Espied a feather of his own , Wherewith he wont to soar so high . Had Echo , with so sweet a grace , Narcissus ' loud complaints returned ; Not for reflection of his face , But of his voice ...
Which , on the shaft that made him die , Espied a feather of his own , Wherewith he wont to soar so high . Had Echo , with so sweet a grace , Narcissus ' loud complaints returned ; Not for reflection of his face , But of his voice ...
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
ANTHOLOGY appear arms Beauty breast bright bring CHLORIS cloth comes Crown 8vo dare dead death delight doth earth Edited Extra fcap eyes face fair fall fear fire fits flame flowers gave give grace grow hair hand hast hath head hear heart Heaven HERRICK Hesperides hope I'll Introduction keep kind King kiss Lady late LAWES leave light lips live look Lover mind Mistress morning move never night Notes once Peace play pleasures Poems Poets poor praise prove rest rose round shalt sing smile soul stars sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thou art thoughts true W. W. SKEAT walk weep wind wine wings wish World wound young 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...
Bibliographic information
| Title | British Anthologies, Volume 6 British Anthologies, Edward Arber |
| Editor | Edward Arber |
| Publisher | H. Frowde, 1899 |
| Original from | the University of Michigan |
| Digitized | 1 Mar 2006 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |