The Life and Letters of John Donne: Dean of St. Paul's, Volym 2Dodd, Mead, 1899 |
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Sida 32
... By what a strange blindness the poets were afflicted ! On the same winter morning Ben Jonson handed to " virtuous Somerset a copy of verses even more enthusi- " " astic than those of Donne . What the feelings of 32 LIFE OF JOHN DONNE.
... By what a strange blindness the poets were afflicted ! On the same winter morning Ben Jonson handed to " virtuous Somerset a copy of verses even more enthusi- " " astic than those of Donne . What the feelings of 32 LIFE OF JOHN DONNE.
Sida 45
... verse and of fancy when he came to write his immortal elegy on Crashaw . Donne pro- ceeds , with a cleverness sometimes forced to the peril of his imagination , for 260 nervous lines , and closes with a rash . vow to write poetry no ...
... verse and of fancy when he came to write his immortal elegy on Crashaw . Donne pro- ceeds , with a cleverness sometimes forced to the peril of his imagination , for 260 nervous lines , and closes with a rash . vow to write poetry no ...
Sida 66
... verse . Sir Thomas Roe , one of Donne's most faithful friends , is presented to us in the next letter as passing through London on his way from court . He was doubtless pro- 1 From the Letters of 1651 . ceeding to the country to make ...
... verse . Sir Thomas Roe , one of Donne's most faithful friends , is presented to us in the next letter as passing through London on his way from court . He was doubtless pro- 1 From the Letters of 1651 . ceeding to the country to make ...
Sida 68
... verse , A nostre Comtesse chez vous , as that I may not put it in amongst the rest to persons of that rank ; for I desire very very much that something should bear her name in the book , and I would be just to my written 68 LIFE OF JOHN ...
... verse , A nostre Comtesse chez vous , as that I may not put it in amongst the rest to persons of that rank ; for I desire very very much that something should bear her name in the book , and I would be just to my written 68 LIFE OF JOHN ...
Sida 69
... verses which he had never been able to make up his mind as a layman to print . The least opposition from Sir Henry Goodyer or the Countess of Bedford would suffice , at such a busy moment , to divert his thoughts from so untimely a ...
... verses which he had never been able to make up his mind as a layman to print . The least opposition from Sir Henry Goodyer or the Countess of Bedford would suffice , at such a busy moment , to divert his thoughts from so untimely a ...
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Abbot Alleyn appointed Ben Jonson Benchers beseech Bishop blessed Saviour Blunham Christ Jesus Church commandment Constance Countess Countess of Bedford court Danvers daughter Dean of St Deanery death desire died divine Doncaster Donne's doth doubt Dunstan's Earl Elector Palatine England epithalamium evidence father favour fortune George give grace hands hath heart heaven Henry King Herbert holy Honourable Knight Sir hope humble James John Danvers John Donne King's Lady Letters of 1651 Lincoln's Lincoln's Inn living London Lord Chamberlain Lordship Majesty marriage never noble occasion Paul's perchance person poems poet Polesworth poor prayers preached preacher present Prince printed received S. R. Gardiner seems sent sermon servant in Christ Sir Henry Goodyer Sir ROBERT KER Sir Thomas Somerset soul spirit tell thankful servant Thee things Thou thought tion Tobie Matthew Collection unto verse Walton write
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Sida 368 - DEATH, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death: nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy picture be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow; And Soonest our best men with thee do go — Rest of their bones and souls
Sida 279 - Since I am coming to that holy room Where, with Thy choir of saints for evermore, I shall be made Thy music; as I come I tune the instrument here at the door, And what I must do then, think here before.
Sida 366 - I am a little world made cunningly Of elements, and an angelic sprite, But black sin hath betray'd to endless night My world's both parts, and, oh, both parts must die. You which beyond that heaven which was most high Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write, Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might Drown my world with my weeping earnestly, Or wash it if it must be drown'd no more: But oh it must be burnt!
Sida 318 - O could we copy their mild virtues, then What joy to live, what blessedness to die ! Methinks their very names shine still and bright ; Apart, — like glowworms on a summer night ; Or lonely tapers when from far they fling A guiding ray ; or seen, like stars on high, Satellites burning in a lucid ring Around meek Walton's heavenly memory.
Sida 367 - At the round earth's imagined corners, blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go, All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow, All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe.
Sida 349 - The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every place, Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep: Each household genius shows again his face, And, from the hearths, the little Lares creep.
Sida 318 - THERE are no colours in the fairest sky So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing.
Sida 236 - ... a preacher in earnest, weeping sometimes for his auditory, sometimes with them, always preaching to himself like an angel from a cloud, but in none; carrying some, as St. Paul was, to heaven in holy raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and courtship to amend their lives...
Sida 196 - 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.
Sida 368 - Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.