English Poets of the Eighteenth CenturyErnest Bernbaum C. Scribner's Sons, 1918 - 364 страница |
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Страница 9
... O'er look the foe , advantaged by his post , Lessen his numbers , and contract his host ; Though fens and floods possessed the middle space , That unprovoked they would have feared to pass , Nor fens nor floods can stop Britannia's ...
... O'er look the foe , advantaged by his post , Lessen his numbers , and contract his host ; Though fens and floods possessed the middle space , That unprovoked they would have feared to pass , Nor fens nor floods can stop Britannia's ...
Страница 10
... o'er pale Britannia passed , Calm and serene he drives the furious blast , And , pleased th ' Almighty's orders to perform , Rides in the whirlwind , and directs the storm . [ DIVINE ODE ] I The spacious firmament on high , With all the ...
... o'er pale Britannia passed , Calm and serene he drives the furious blast , And , pleased th ' Almighty's orders to perform , Rides in the whirlwind , and directs the storm . [ DIVINE ODE ] I The spacious firmament on high , With all the ...
Страница 26
... o'er the vales , and seem to tread the sky , Th ' eternal snows appear already past , And the first clouds and mountains seem the last ; But , those attained , we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthened way , Th ...
... o'er the vales , and seem to tread the sky , Th ' eternal snows appear already past , And the first clouds and mountains seem the last ; But , those attained , we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthened way , Th ...
Страница 29
... o'er th ' unbending corn , and skims along the main . Hear how Timotheus ' varied lays surprise , And bid alternate passions fall and rise ! While , at each change , the son of Libyan Jove Now burns with glory , and then melts with love ...
... o'er th ' unbending corn , and skims along the main . Hear how Timotheus ' varied lays surprise , And bid alternate passions fall and rise ! While , at each change , the son of Libyan Jove Now burns with glory , and then melts with love ...
Страница 32
... o'er the purpled main , Than , issuing forth , the rival of his beams Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames . Fair nymphs , and well - dressed youths around her shone , But every eye was fixed on her alone . On her white breast a ...
... o'er the purpled main , Than , issuing forth , the rival of his beams Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames . Fair nymphs , and well - dressed youths around her shone , But every eye was fixed on her alone . On her white breast a ...
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Чести термини и фразе
AUGUSTUS MONTAGU TOPLADY auld auld lang syne bard beauty beneath blessed blest bliss breast breath charms clouds crown dear delight divine dread e'er earth eternal fair fame fancy fate fear Fingal flowers folly fools frae gale grace grave Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart Heaven hill human JOHN GILBERT COOPER king labour live Lubberkin lyre Matthew Prior mind moral murmurs Muse nature Nature's ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er Ossian pain passions peace plain pleasing pleasure poet poor praise pride proud rage raptures RICHARD JAGO rills rise round scene shade shine sigh sing skelpin smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spread spring swain sweet tears thee thine thou thought toil trembling truth Twas vale virtue voice wandering wave wild wind wings wretch wyllowe youth
Популарни одломци
Страница 183 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Страница 218 - As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Страница 185 - Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Страница 236 - Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to thy cross I cling ; Naked, come to Thee for dress ; Helpless, look to Thee for grace ; Foul, I to the Fountain fly, Wash me, Saviour, or I die...
Страница 143 - Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee. Leave, ah leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me. All my trust on thee is stayed, All my help from thee I bring; Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Страница 184 - Await alike the inevitable hour. 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...
Страница 160 - How sleep the Brave T_TOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd 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...
Страница 269 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense. Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Страница 215 - 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.
Страница 61 - Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he? What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers load, On wings of winds came flying...