The Heart of Oak Books, Volume 5Charles Eliot Norton, George Henry Browne D.C. Heath & Company, 1895 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 12
Page xi
... Ben Jonson Sir Walter Scott 116 . Lady Anne Lindsay 118 Sir Walter Scott 119 Sir Walter Scott 120 Barbara Allen's Cruelty . Alice Brand ...... The Legend of.
... Ben Jonson Sir Walter Scott 116 . Lady Anne Lindsay 118 Sir Walter Scott 119 Sir Walter Scott 120 Barbara Allen's Cruelty . Alice Brand ...... The Legend of.
Page xii
... Ben Jonson Edmund Waller 231 William Shakespeare 232 .. Ben Jonson 232 Hartley Coleridge 233 Sir Walter Scott 234 Matthew Prior 234 ..Lord Byron 236 William Wordsworth 236 . Charles Lamb 237 Wadsworth Longfellow 252 William Wordsworth ...
... Ben Jonson Edmund Waller 231 William Shakespeare 232 .. Ben Jonson 232 Hartley Coleridge 233 Sir Walter Scott 234 Matthew Prior 234 ..Lord Byron 236 William Wordsworth 236 . Charles Lamb 237 Wadsworth Longfellow 252 William Wordsworth ...
Page xiii
... Ben Jonson 339 Ben Jonson 340 James Russell Lowell 340 Alfred , Lord Tennyson 341 Ben Jonson 342 343 355 THE HEART OF OAK BOOKS . FIFTH BOOK . ELEGY TABLE OF CONTENTS . xiii.
... Ben Jonson 339 Ben Jonson 340 James Russell Lowell 340 Alfred , Lord Tennyson 341 Ben Jonson 342 343 355 THE HEART OF OAK BOOKS . FIFTH BOOK . ELEGY TABLE OF CONTENTS . xiii.
Page 115
... , And sent'st it back to me ; Since when , it grows , and smells , I swear , Not of itself , but thee . HAROLD'S SONG . From THE LAY OF THE LAST MINStrel THE HEART OF OAK BOOKS . 115 To Celia, Drink to me only with Thine Eyes Ben Jonson.
... , And sent'st it back to me ; Since when , it grows , and smells , I swear , Not of itself , but thee . HAROLD'S SONG . From THE LAY OF THE LAST MINStrel THE HEART OF OAK BOOKS . 115 To Celia, Drink to me only with Thine Eyes Ben Jonson.
Page 230
... you marked but the fall o ' the snow , Before the soil hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of the beaver ? Or swan's down ever ? Or have smelt o ' the bud of the brier 230 CHARIS , HER TRIUMPH . Charis, her Triumph Ben Jonson.
... you marked but the fall o ' the snow , Before the soil hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of the beaver ? Or swan's down ever ? Or have smelt o ' the bud of the brier 230 CHARIS , HER TRIUMPH . Charis, her Triumph Ben Jonson.
Contents
1 | |
7 | |
17 | |
31 | |
38 | |
44 | |
66 | |
80 | |
220 | |
226 | |
232 | |
252 | |
258 | |
266 | |
274 | |
275 | |
88 | |
100 | |
106 | |
112 | |
118 | |
122 | |
130 | |
167 | |
192 | |
209 | |
286 | |
292 | |
299 | |
305 | |
314 | |
320 | |
330 | |
338 | |
355 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Allen-a-Dale ancient Mariner ANNABEL LEE Argalus Barbara Allen beauty Ben Jonson birds boys bright Brignall Brom called cents Christ's Hospital Clitophon cloud dead dear death Demagoras door doth drum English eyes fair fame fear fight flowers give green hand hath head hear heard heart HEART OF OAK heaven Helots honor hundred Ichabod Ichabod Crane James Russell Lowell Kalander king lady land light live look Lord master mind mother mountain never night noble o'er Palladius Parthenia poor Queen rest Revenge Rip Van Winkle round sail ship side sing Sir Richard sleep Sleepy Hollow song soul sound spirit stood story strange sweet tell thee thet things thou thought took trees Twas unto village voice wild William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind woman woods young
Popular passages
Page 226 - I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Page 260 - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not.
Page 310 - Guid faith he mauna fa' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that ; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that ; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Page 4 - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Page 172 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Page 171 - The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea. " And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners
Page 304 - twill cost a sigh, a tear ; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time ; Say not good-night, but in some brighter clime Bid me "Good-morning.
Page 5 - custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. " The next, with dirges due in sad array, Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne ; Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 229 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Page 347 - Lyrical Ballads, in which it was agreed that my endeavours should be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or at least romantic — yet so as to transfer from our inward nature a human interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief, for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith.