The English PoetsThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1901 |
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Página 12
... eyes dart every glance , Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect ' em , For she'd persuade they wound by chance , Though certain aim and art direct ' em . She likes herself , yet others hates For that which in herself she prizes ; And ...
... eyes dart every glance , Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect ' em , For she'd persuade they wound by chance , Though certain aim and art direct ' em . She likes herself , yet others hates For that which in herself she prizes ; And ...
Página 13
... eyes , and the machinery and imagery have lost all the charm that they may at one time have had . But as a versifier Garth must always deserve a place in the story of English literature . Claremont and his other minor works display the ...
... eyes , and the machinery and imagery have lost all the charm that they may at one time have had . But as a versifier Garth must always deserve a place in the story of English literature . Claremont and his other minor works display the ...
Página 21
... eyes that cannot read Should dart their kindling fires , and look The power they have to be obeyed . Nor quality , nor reputation , Forbid me yet my flame to tell , Dear five years old befriends my passion , And I may write till she can ...
... eyes that cannot read Should dart their kindling fires , and look The power they have to be obeyed . Nor quality , nor reputation , Forbid me yet my flame to tell , Dear five years old befriends my passion , And I may write till she can ...
Página 22
... side . You , far from danger as from fear , Might have sustained an open fight : For seldom your opinions err ; Your eyes are always in the right . Why , fair one , would you not rely On THE ENGLISH POETS . A Song To a Lady.
... side . You , far from danger as from fear , Might have sustained an open fight : For seldom your opinions err ; Your eyes are always in the right . Why , fair one , would you not rely On THE ENGLISH POETS . A Song To a Lady.
Página 23
... I should play . My lyre I tune , my voice I raise ; But with my numbers mix my sighs : And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise , I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes . Fair Chloe blushed : Euphelia frowned : I sung and MATTHEW PRIOR . 23 An.
... I should play . My lyre I tune , my voice I raise ; But with my numbers mix my sighs : And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise , I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes . Fair Chloe blushed : Euphelia frowned : I sung and MATTHEW PRIOR . 23 An.
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Términos y frases comunes
40 cents ADAM SKIRVING admirable auld auld lang syne beauty beneath Birks of Aberfeldy Book born breath Burns charm Chatterton Cowper critical dear death delight Dunciad Edited English Classics Series English poetry Epistle Essay ev'ry eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair fame flowers fool frae genius GEORGE SAINTSBURY Globe 8vo grace Gray Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart Heaven John King lassie literary literature live Lord lyre lyric Macmillan's English Classics maun MICHAEL MACMILLAN mind muse nature ne'er never night Notes numbers o'er passion pleasure poems poet poet's poetical poetry poor Pope praise pride prose satire shade Shakespeare sing SKEAT smile song soul spirit sweet taste tell thee thou thought thro toil truth Twas verse virtue W. W. SKEAT weel wind write youth
Pasajes populares
Página 568 - 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
Página 331 - 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...
Página 260 - Prince of Peace ! Hail! the Sun of Righteousness ! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings. Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die, Born to raise the sons of earth, Born to give them second birth.
Página 551 - JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent ;' But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw ; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And monie a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Página 478 - Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own ; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Página 562 - 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!
Página 318 - Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the watery glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's holy shade ; And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way : Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade ! Ah, fields beloved in vain ! Where once my careless childhood strayed, A stranger yet to pain!
Página 580 - Life ! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard. to part when friends are dear — Perhaps '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.
Página 378 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Página 380 - That sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em. Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining...