ParnassusHoughton, Mifflin, 1882 - 534 pagina's |
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Pagina ix
... gone . No great poet needs so much a severely critical selection of the noble numbers from the puerile into which he often falls . Leigh Hunt said of him , that " he was a fine lettuce with too many outer leaves . " — Byron's rare ...
... gone . No great poet needs so much a severely critical selection of the noble numbers from the puerile into which he often falls . Leigh Hunt said of him , that " he was a fine lettuce with too many outer leaves . " — Byron's rare ...
Pagina xxii
... gone -is dust " Dirge in Cymbeline Epitaph from Simonides Fear no More the Heat o ' th ' Sun Charles Wolfe Scott . Wordsworth . Tennyson Wordsworth . Herrick Coleridge ( Trans . ) Collins Anonymous Shakspeare He's Gane Burns Hosea ...
... gone -is dust " Dirge in Cymbeline Epitaph from Simonides Fear no More the Heat o ' th ' Sun Charles Wolfe Scott . Wordsworth . Tennyson Wordsworth . Herrick Coleridge ( Trans . ) Collins Anonymous Shakspeare He's Gane Burns Hosea ...
Pagina xxvii
... gone is dust ( trans . from Hymn to God , my God , in my Sickness , 186 Hymn to Christ 180 Schiller ) 459 If Men be Worlds 517 Genevieve . 73 Love 62 • Heroism ( trans . from Schiller ) 195 Oh , how feeble is Man's Power 517 Kubla Khan ...
... gone is dust ( trans . from Hymn to God , my God , in my Sickness , 186 Hymn to Christ 180 Schiller ) 459 If Men be Worlds 517 Genevieve . 73 Love 62 • Heroism ( trans . from Schiller ) 195 Oh , how feeble is Man's Power 517 Kubla Khan ...
Pagina 5
... gone ? It is not yet near day , It was the nightingale , and not the lark , That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear : Nightly she sings on yon pomegran- ate tree : Believe me , love , it was the nightin- gale . -- Romeo . It was ...
... gone ? It is not yet near day , It was the nightingale , and not the lark , That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear : Nightly she sings on yon pomegran- ate tree : Believe me , love , it was the nightin- gale . -- Romeo . It was ...
Pagina 6
... gone and live , or stay and die . SHAKSPEARE . MORNING . THIS castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends it- self Unto our gentle senses . This guest of summer , The temple - haunting martlet , does approve , By ...
... gone and live , or stay and die . SHAKSPEARE . MORNING . THIS castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends it- self Unto our gentle senses . This guest of summer , The temple - haunting martlet , does approve , By ...
Inhoudsopgave
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Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
auld auld lang syne beauty BEN JONSON beneath birds blessed blood blow brave breast breath brow busk Clyde's water COVENTRY PATMORE cried crown dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes F. B. SANBORN face fair Fair Annie fear flowers frae gaze Glenlogie gold grace grave green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven heir of Linne holy honor JEAN INGELOW king lady land light live look Lord Maryland maun morn ne'er never night o'er Osawatomie pale pray rock rose round sail SHAKSPEARE shalt shore sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit stars steed stood Svend Vonved sweet sword tears tell thee thet thine thing thou art thought Toll slowly tree Twas unto voice wave weep wild wind wood word
Populaire passages
Pagina 205 - Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And sure, he is an honorable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke. But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause ; What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him ? O judgment!
Pagina 206 - And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; I am no orator, as Brutus is : But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend ; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that, which you yourselves do know...
Pagina 230 - Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me: As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
Pagina 170 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of Mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous Shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Pagina 126 - And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
Pagina 63 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Pagina 175 - On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave: Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by; Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,...
Pagina 462 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning-flash...
Pagina 271 - ON HIS BLINDNESS. WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Pagina 173 - 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 passed away a glory from the earth.