Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De Vere |
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Página 7
36 Her little child lay weeping in her arm ; And kneeling piteously , to him she
said — “ Peace , little son , I will do thee no harm : " With that her kerchief off her
head she braid , 37 And over his little eyen she it laid , And in her arm she lulleth
it ...
36 Her little child lay weeping in her arm ; And kneeling piteously , to him she
said — “ Peace , little son , I will do thee no harm : " With that her kerchief off her
head she braid , 37 And over his little eyen she it laid , And in her arm she lulleth
it ...
Página 8
Why will thine hardé father have thee spilt 244 O mercy , dearé Constable ? (
quod she ) As let my little child dwell here with thee ; And if thou dar ' st not saven
him from blame , So kiss him onés in his father ' s name . " Therewith she looketh
...
Why will thine hardé father have thee spilt 244 O mercy , dearé Constable ? (
quod she ) As let my little child dwell here with thee ; And if thou dar ' st not saven
him from blame , So kiss him onés in his father ' s name . " Therewith she looketh
...
Página 9
... have done . Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain ; That mak ' st but game of
earnest payne . Think not alone under the sun , Unquit the cause thy lovers
plaine , Although my lute and I have done . May chance thee lye withred and old ,
In winter.
... have done . Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain ; That mak ' st but game of
earnest payne . Think not alone under the sun , Unquit the cause thy lovers
plaine , Although my lute and I have done . May chance thee lye withred and old ,
In winter.
Página 10
May chance thee lye withred and old , In winter nights that are so cold , Playning
in vain unto the moon ; Thy wishes then dare not be told : Care then who list ! for I
have done . And then may chaunce thee to repent The time that thou hast lost ...
May chance thee lye withred and old , In winter nights that are so cold , Playning
in vain unto the moon ; Thy wishes then dare not be told : Care then who list ! for I
have done . And then may chaunce thee to repent The time that thou hast lost ...
Página 18
And I will make thee beds of roses , And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of
flowers , and a kirtle Embroider ' d all with leaves of myrtle . A gown made of the
finest wool , Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Fair lined slippers for the cold ...
And I will make thee beds of roses , And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of
flowers , and a kirtle Embroider ' d all with leaves of myrtle . A gown made of the
finest wool , Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Fair lined slippers for the cold ...
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Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed. by A. de Vere Aubrey Thomas De Vere Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed by a de Vere Aubrey De Vere Sin vista previa disponible - 2012 |
Términos y frases comunes
beauty birds blood born breath bright bring clouds court dark dead dear death deep delight died doth early earth eyes face fair fall fame fear field fire flowers give glory grace grave grow hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven hill honour hope hour human Italy king land learning leaves less light living looks Lord mind morn mortal nature never night o'er once pass play pleasure poems poet poetry rest rich rise rocks rose round seems shine sight silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars sweet tears Tell thee thine things thou thought trees true turn unto voice wind wings woods youth
Pasajes populares
Página 253 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Página 254 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy...
Página 252 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Página 248 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Página 47 - The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Página 18 - And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle...
Página 94 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Página 149 - The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death...
Página 152 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew. Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Página 44 - Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Información bibliográfica
| Título | Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De Vere |
| Editor | Aubrey Thomas De Vere |
| Publicado | 1858 |
| Procedencia del original | Universidad de Oxford |
| Digitalizado | 4 Ago. 2006 |
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