Harper's Cyclopædia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent Harper & Brothers, 1881 - 958 pagini |
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Pagina 19
... born in Norfolk , got a degree at Cambridge in 1578 , travelled in Italy and Spain , and wasted his patri- mony in dissipation . Returning home , he betook him- self to literature as a means of livelihood . He died in great poverty and ...
... born in Norfolk , got a degree at Cambridge in 1578 , travelled in Italy and Spain , and wasted his patri- mony in dissipation . Returning home , he betook him- self to literature as a means of livelihood . He died in great poverty and ...
Pagina 27
... born stands , in a restored condition , in Henley Street ; and the conjectured room of his birth is scrib- bled over - walls , ceiling , windows - with thousands of names . His father , a wool - comber , though not opulent , seems to ...
... born stands , in a restored condition , in Henley Street ; and the conjectured room of his birth is scrib- bled over - walls , ceiling , windows - with thousands of names . His father , a wool - comber , though not opulent , seems to ...
Pagina 39
... born ! The want of term is town and city's harm : Close chambers we do want to keep us warm . Long banished must we live now from our friends : This low - built house will bring us to our ends . From winter , plague , and pestilence ...
... born ! The want of term is town and city's harm : Close chambers we do want to keep us warm . Long banished must we live now from our friends : This low - built house will bring us to our ends . From winter , plague , and pestilence ...
Pagina 103
... born at Witham , in Middle- sex . His father was Secretary of State to James I. The young poet went abroad , and served under Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden . Returning to England , he at- tempted with others to deliver Strafford from the ...
... born at Witham , in Middle- sex . His father was Secretary of State to James I. The young poet went abroad , and served under Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden . Returning to England , he at- tempted with others to deliver Strafford from the ...
Pagina 110
... born , are grown ; Their mothers ' labor , not their own . In this scale gold , in th ' other fame does lie , The weight of that mounts this so high . These men are Fortune's jewels , moulded bright ; Brought forth with their own fire ...
... born , are grown ; Their mothers ' labor , not their own . In this scale gold , in th ' other fame does lie , The weight of that mounts this so high . These men are Fortune's jewels , moulded bright ; Brought forth with their own fire ...
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Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American Poetry (Classic Reprint) Epes Sargent Nu există previzualizare disponibilă - 2018 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie birds blessed bonny born breast breath bright brow busk Charles Lamb charms Chevy Chase clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae glory grace green grief Grongar Hill hame hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hope hour immortal king kiss land lassie leave light live look Lord Lycidas mind morning mortal native Nature's ne'er never night numbers Nut-brown Maide o'er pain pleasure poem poet praise Robin Hood rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars Stutly sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice waves weep wild wind wings wrote Yarrow young youth
Pasaje populare
Pagina 99 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Pagina 413 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Pagina 664 - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Pagina 664 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Pagina 183 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Pagina 290 - Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Pagina 310 - And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
Pagina 414 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Pagina 653 - And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Pagina 663 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.