The Book of Restoration VerseWilliam Stanley Braithwaite Brentano's, 1909 - 864 страница |
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Страница 27
... grave , and die . First , my unhappy statue shall Be cut in marble ; and withal , Let it be weeping too ; but there The engraver sure his art may spare ; For I so truly thee bemoan , That I shall weep , though I be stone , Until my ...
... grave , and die . First , my unhappy statue shall Be cut in marble ; and withal , Let it be weeping too ; but there The engraver sure his art may spare ; For I so truly thee bemoan , That I shall weep , though I be stone , Until my ...
Страница 41
... grave's a fine and private place , But none , I think , do there embrace . Now therefore , while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew , And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires , Now let us ...
... grave's a fine and private place , But none , I think , do there embrace . Now therefore , while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew , And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires , Now let us ...
Страница 75
... flow near The sacred silence that dwells here . Vast griefs are dumb ; softly , oh softly mourn ! Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn . Yet strew Upon my dismal grave Such offerings as you 75 RESTORATION VERSE 59. ...
... flow near The sacred silence that dwells here . Vast griefs are dumb ; softly , oh softly mourn ! Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn . Yet strew Upon my dismal grave Such offerings as you 75 RESTORATION VERSE 59. ...
Страница 76
William Stanley Braithwaite. Yet strew Upon my dismal grave Such offerings as you have : Forsaken cypress , and sad yew ; For kinder flowers can take no birth Or growth from such unhappy earth . Weep only o'er my dust , and say : ' Here ...
William Stanley Braithwaite. Yet strew Upon my dismal grave Such offerings as you have : Forsaken cypress , and sad yew ; For kinder flowers can take no birth Or growth from such unhappy earth . Weep only o'er my dust , and say : ' Here ...
Страница 82
... grave , Like wedlock , honour's title have ? That word makes free - born man a slave . How happy he that loves not , lives ! Him neither hope nor fear deceives , To fortune who no hostage gives . How unconcern'd in things to come ! If ...
... grave , Like wedlock , honour's title have ? That word makes free - born man a slave . How happy he that loves not , lives ! Him neither hope nor fear deceives , To fortune who no hostage gives . How unconcern'd in things to come ! If ...
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The Book of Restoration Verse: Chosen and Edited with Notes (Classic Reprint) William Stanley Braithwaite Приказ није доступан - 2017 |
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Anon ballad beauty blest bold bonny brave breast bright Carterhaugh charms Child Waters Clerk Saunders Countess of Winchilsea dead dear death delight divine dost doth Earl ev'ry eyes fair Fair Annie fame fate fear fire flame flowers frae gold grace grave green hand hast hath hear heart Heaven Hind Horn king Kinmont Willie kiss kynge lady light Little Musgrave Litull John live Lord lover maid Mary Ambree Milton mind mother Muse ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er pain pleasure poets praise Queen quoth Robin Hood Robyn Hode rose sacred Scottish Border seid shade shine sighs sing sleep smile Song soul stars sweet Tam Lin tears tell thee thine things Thomas Traherne thou art thought tree Twas unto verse weep Whilst wind wine wings young
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Страница 254 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and, with new spangled ore, Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Страница 1 - MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Страница 252 - And question'd every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked Promontory; They knew not of his story, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd ; The Ayr was calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. It was that fatall and perfidious Bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.
Страница 192 - He that is down needs fear no fall, He that is low, no pride; He that is humble, ever shall Have God to be his guide.
Страница 13 - When we have run our passion's heat, Love hither makes his best retreat. The Gods, that mortal beauty chase, Still in a tree did end their race ; Apollo hunted Daphne so, Only that she might laurel grow ; And Pan did after Syrinx speed, Not as a nymph, but for a reed.
Страница 170 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with* thee Jest and youthful Jollity. Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Страница 176 - But first and chiefest, with thee bring Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The Cherub Contemplation ; And the mute Silence hist along, 'Less Philomel will deign a song, In her sweetest saddest plight.
Страница 13 - Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide: There like a bird it sits, and sings, Then whets, and combs its silver wings; And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Страница 243 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise...
Страница 247 - And hears the unexpressive nuptial song In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above In solemn troops, and sweet societies That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.