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Page x
... Gone into the World of Light CX . The Relapse . CXI . Song to a fair young Lady , going out of Town in the • John Dryden . . . 157 Spring CXII . Song . CXIII . Victoria's Song • CXIV . Love Armed CXV . Phillada . CXVI . To a Child of ...
... Gone into the World of Light CX . The Relapse . CXI . Song to a fair young Lady , going out of Town in the • John Dryden . . . 157 Spring CXII . Song . CXIII . Victoria's Song • CXIV . Love Armed CXV . Phillada . CXVI . To a Child of ...
Page xviii
... gone our tears , as St. Leo said of the Magdalen , have woven a veil which prevents our discriminating what they are who are called up before us . Odes , properly so called , are excluded ; as are all narrative , didactic , and ballad ...
... gone our tears , as St. Leo said of the Magdalen , have woven a veil which prevents our discriminating what they are who are called up before us . Odes , properly so called , are excluded ; as are all narrative , didactic , and ballad ...
Page 9
... gone so soft To find and have thy company , I would each hand a foot had been , And eke each foot a hand so seen . And when in mind I did consent To follow thus my fancy's will , And when my heart did first relent To taste such bait ...
... gone so soft To find and have thy company , I would each hand a foot had been , And eke each foot a hand so seen . And when in mind I did consent To follow thus my fancy's will , And when my heart did first relent To taste such bait ...
Page 15
... gone ; Look on me , for I am he , Thy poor silly Corydon . Thou that art the shepherd's queen , Look upon thy silly swain ; By thy comfort have been seen Dead men brought to life again . VIII . CORYDON'S SUPPLICATION TO PHILLIS . WEET ...
... gone ; Look on me , for I am he , Thy poor silly Corydon . Thou that art the shepherd's queen , Look upon thy silly swain ; By thy comfort have been seen Dead men brought to life again . VIII . CORYDON'S SUPPLICATION TO PHILLIS . WEET ...
Page 44
... gone . What is it then to have or have no wife But single thraldom or a double strife ? Our own affections still at home to please , Is a disease : To cross the sea to any foreign soil , Perils and toil : Wars with their noise affright ...
... gone . What is it then to have or have no wife But single thraldom or a double strife ? Our own affections still at home to please , Is a disease : To cross the sea to any foreign soil , Perils and toil : Wars with their noise affright ...
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Common terms and phrases
adieu Love Anthony Wood beauty BEN JONSON best fits birds blow breast breath bright brow cold County Guy Cymbeline Cynthia's Revels dead dear death delight doth earth England's Helicon eyes fancy fear fits a little flowers give gone grave hath heart heaven Honour lady leaves light live look love anew Love's lovers Lucasta lulla lullaby lyric maid Master Constable Melicertus mind morning ne'er never Nice Valour night nonny numbers o'er old familiar faces pain Phillada flouts Phillis pity poem Queen roses Sally shine sighs sight sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile SONG sorrow soul spring stars tears tell thee thine things Thomas Dekker Thomas Farnaby thou art thou dost Thou hast Thou lovest amiss thought toil unto untrue Love verse wanton waves weep William Haughton winds wings winter WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED youth
Popular passages
Page 130 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against Fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 198 - 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.
Page 146 - 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 honor more.
Page 61 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Page 72 - A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. W ILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run And do run still, though still I do deplore ? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done ; For I have more.
Page 201 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Page 80 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 75 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose: Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess, excellently bright!
Page 218 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave— For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Page 87 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity : 'Fie, fie, fie...