Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De VereAubrey Thomas De Vere 1858 |
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Page iii
... heart and to elevate human action ; while the cause of it is to be found mainly in a low or a false estimate of that which has thus been shorn of its duties and functions . It is the office of poetry , as Bacon tells us , to " submit ...
... heart and to elevate human action ; while the cause of it is to be found mainly in a low or a false estimate of that which has thus been shorn of its duties and functions . It is the office of poetry , as Bacon tells us , to " submit ...
Page v
... heart through the ima- gination ; it teaches us to sympathise ; it enables us to fol- low the fortunes of others in untried modes of being . It lifts us thus beyond the limits of a merely individual expe- rience , and enfranchises us ...
... heart through the ima- gination ; it teaches us to sympathise ; it enables us to fol- low the fortunes of others in untried modes of being . It lifts us thus beyond the limits of a merely individual expe- rience , and enfranchises us ...
Page viii
... heart . In this volume the selections have been made alike from writers of very various opinions and schools . The extracts follow each other in such an order as will assist the reader to understand the progress of English poetry , and ...
... heart . In this volume the selections have been made alike from writers of very various opinions and schools . The extracts follow each other in such an order as will assist the reader to understand the progress of English poetry , and ...
Page 6
... heart Declare one point of all my sorrows ' smart To you my lady , that I lové most , But I bequeath the service of my ghost To you abovén every creáture , Since that my life ne may no longer dure . Alas the woe ! alas the painés strong ...
... heart Declare one point of all my sorrows ' smart To you my lady , that I lové most , But I bequeath the service of my ghost To you abovén every creáture , Since that my life ne may no longer dure . Alas the woe ! alas the painés strong ...
Page 9
... heart as soon : Should we then sing , or sigh , or moan ? No , no , my lute ! for I have done . The rocks do not so ... hearts , thorough Love's shot , By whom , unkind ! thou hast them won ; Think not he hath his bow forgot , Although ...
... heart as soon : Should we then sing , or sigh , or moan ? No , no , my lute ! for I have done . The rocks do not so ... hearts , thorough Love's shot , By whom , unkind ! thou hast them won ; Think not he hath his bow forgot , Although ...
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Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed. by A. de Vere Aubrey Thomas De Vere No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
beauty BEN JONSON beneath birds born A.D. bosom breast breath bright Castara Chaucer clouds customed hill dark dead dear death deep delight died A.D. dost doth dream dull earth dwelling earth English poetry eyes fair fame fancy flowers genius GILES FLETCHER glory Gondibert grace grave green happy hast hath hear heart heaven hills honour hour Idlesse king light living looks Lord Lord Byron lyre morning mortal nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er PHILIP MASSINGER pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise rills rise rocks rose round Samian wine shade shine sigh sight silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stream sweet sweet oblivion tears Tell tempest thee thine things thou art thought trees unto vale vex'd virgin voice wave wind wings woods wouldst youth
Popular passages
Page 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...
Page 254 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy...
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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...
Page 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.