The English Poets: Addison to BlakeThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 |
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Página 11
... rest , unnecessary springs of life , Leave your officious toil and strife ; For I would hear her voice , and try If it be possible to die . ' This is beautifully and musically said . The second stanza is not so good ; and in the third ...
... rest , unnecessary springs of life , Leave your officious toil and strife ; For I would hear her voice , and try If it be possible to die . ' This is beautifully and musically said . The second stanza is not so good ; and in the third ...
Página 18
... rest , always excepting the clever skit upon Boileau's pompous Ode sur la prise de Namur , likely to attract the modern reader . His distinctive and personal note is to be found in one only of his longer pieces , and in his vivacious ...
... rest , always excepting the clever skit upon Boileau's pompous Ode sur la prise de Namur , likely to attract the modern reader . His distinctive and personal note is to be found in one only of his longer pieces , and in his vivacious ...
Página 21
... rest I took , Lest those bright 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 ...
... rest I took , Lest those bright 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 ...
Página 25
... rest : If at morning o'er earth ' tis his fancy to run ; At night he reclines on his Thetis's breast . So when I am wearied with wandering all day ; To thee , my delight , in the evening I come : No matter what beauties I saw in my way ...
... rest : If at morning o'er earth ' tis his fancy to run ; At night he reclines on his Thetis's breast . So when I am wearied with wandering all day ; To thee , my delight , in the evening I come : No matter what beauties I saw in my way ...
Página 29
... rest ; Cares do still their thoughts molest , And still the unhappy poet's breast Like thine , when best he sings , is placed against a thorn . She begins ! Let all be still ! Muse , thy promise now fulfil ! Sweet ! oh sweet ! still ...
... rest ; Cares do still their thoughts molest , And still the unhappy poet's breast Like thine , when best he sings , is placed against a thorn . She begins ! Let all be still ! Muse , thy promise now fulfil ! Sweet ! oh sweet ! still ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Addison admiration Ambrose Philips beauty beneath blest born breast breath Castle of Indolence charm couplet court critics death delight Dunciad e'er Eclogues English English poetry Epistle Essay Essay on Criticism Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate fool frae genius GEORGE SAINTSBURY grace Gratius Faliscus grave Gray Grongar Hill hand happy head heart heaven Horace kings knave labour literary live Lord Lord Hervey mind moral muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once passion Pindaric pleasure poem poet poetical poetry Pope Pope's pow'r praise pride prose rhyme rise round satire sense shade shine sing smile song soul spirit Spleen sweet Swift taste tear tell thee things thou thought thro toil trembling truth turns Twas verse virtue Whig wind wise write youth
Pasajes populares
Página 85 - Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way...
Página 263 - Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to cover all my sin; Let the healing streams abound, Make and keep me pure within. Thou of life the fountain art; Freely let me take of thee; Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.
Página 532 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Página 262 - Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high; Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.
Página 263 - Thou, O Christ, art all I want; More than all in thee I find : Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick and lead the blind ! Just and holy is thy name; I am all unrighteousness ; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace.
Página 604 - Pipe a song about a Lamb !" So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again;" So I piped: he wept to hear. "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit th/ee down and write In a book that all may read.
Página 562 - Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel 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...
Página 374 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade — A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Página 287 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blessed ! When spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell, a weeping hermit, there ! ODE TO EVENING.
Página 290 - With woful measures, wan Despair Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled ; A solemn, strange, and mingled air; 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.