Introductions to the PoetsG. Routledge & sons, 1912 - 313 páginas |
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Página 6
... perhaps the decline of the ballad , which in England flourished chiefly in the thirteenth and fourteenth century . The ballads were handed down orally as was the case with the first poetry of all nations , and many repetitions and ...
... perhaps the decline of the ballad , which in England flourished chiefly in the thirteenth and fourteenth century . The ballads were handed down orally as was the case with the first poetry of all nations , and many repetitions and ...
Página 31
... perhaps not so effectually as you could desire . " So , clearly , by 1582 he had made some way with his work . His plan was for twelve Books , but he only wrote six , for though some may have perished in the flames when his castle in ...
... perhaps not so effectually as you could desire . " So , clearly , by 1582 he had made some way with his work . His plan was for twelve Books , but he only wrote six , for though some may have perished in the flames when his castle in ...
Página 32
... perhaps will be at no loss to discover for them ) a different cause for their insensibility than the tediousness or insipidity of allegorical poetry . Every canto of this book teems with the choicest beauties of imagination ; he came to ...
... perhaps will be at no loss to discover for them ) a different cause for their insensibility than the tediousness or insipidity of allegorical poetry . Every canto of this book teems with the choicest beauties of imagination ; he came to ...
Página 35
... perhaps so familiar . Milton's prose writings were but little read . They contained a great deal that was not altogether consonant with the taste and the tem- per of our time ; but they included patches of the most splendid diction to ...
... perhaps so familiar . Milton's prose writings were but little read . They contained a great deal that was not altogether consonant with the taste and the tem- per of our time ; but they included patches of the most splendid diction to ...
Página 41
... perhaps if we read now Wordsworth's sonnet called London 1802 . Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : Altar , sword , and pen , Fireside , the heroic wealth of hall ...
... perhaps if we read now Wordsworth's sonnet called London 1802 . Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : Altar , sword , and pen , Fireside , the heroic wealth of hall ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Alfoxden Alfred Arthur Arthur Hallam ballad beautiful brother Browning Browning's Burns Byron called Cambridge canto charm Chaucer CHRISTINA ROSSETTI Coleridge daughter death delight died Dove Cottage Edmund Lushington Elegy Emily England English eyes Faerie Queene father feeling genius Grasmere Gray Greek heart heaven human John Keats Keats Lady language later Layamon Leigh Hunt letter Lincolnshire lines literature lived Lord lyric married Mary Matthew Arnold melody Memoriam Milton mind mother Nature Nether Stowey never night once passion Pippa Passes poem poet poet's poetic poetry prose published rhymes Rossetti says seems Shakespeare Shelley Shiplake sing sister Somersby song sonnet soul Spenser stanzas Stopford Brooke story sweet Tale tells Tennyson thee things thou thought tion told verse voice volume wife words Wordsworth writing written wrote
Pasajes populares
Página 112 - Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain — Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet 1 — God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer ! and let the ice-plains...
Página 180 - Heaven lies about us in our infancy. Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy; But he beholds the light and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy. The youth who daily farther from the East Must travel, still is Nature's priest, And, by the vision splendid, Is on his way attended. At length the man perceives it die away And fade into the light of common day.
Página 231 - Then, welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
Página 295 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Página 183 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Página 230 - All we have willed, or hoped or dreamed of good shall exist; Not its semblance, but itself; no beauty, nor good, nor power Whose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the melodist When eternity affirms the conception of an hour.
Página 180 - The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose; The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Página 82 - tis He alone , Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord — its various tone, Each spring — its various bias: Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Página 189 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Página 182 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.