Ben Jonson to DrydenThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1880 |
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Sida 10
... breath she blows them up to heaven . She wears a robe enchased with eagles ' eyes , To signify her sight in mysteries : Upon each shoulder sits a milk - white dove , And at her feet do witty serpents move : Her spacious arms do reach ...
... breath she blows them up to heaven . She wears a robe enchased with eagles ' eyes , To signify her sight in mysteries : Upon each shoulder sits a milk - white dove , And at her feet do witty serpents move : Her spacious arms do reach ...
Sida 14
... breathe , And sent'st it back to me : Since when it grows , and smells , I swear , Not of itself , but thee . EPIGRAMS . TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER . To thee , my way in Epigrams seems new , When both it is the old way , and the true ...
... breathe , And sent'st it back to me : Since when it grows , and smells , I swear , Not of itself , but thee . EPIGRAMS . TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER . To thee , my way in Epigrams seems new , When both it is the old way , and the true ...
Sida 23
... complain or wish for death , With holy Paul , lest it be thought the breath Of discontent ; or that these prayers be For weariness of life , not love of Thee . WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN . [ WILLIAM DRUMMOND was born BEN JONSON . 23.
... complain or wish for death , With holy Paul , lest it be thought the breath Of discontent ; or that these prayers be For weariness of life , not love of Thee . WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN . [ WILLIAM DRUMMOND was born BEN JONSON . 23.
Sida 28
... breathe ) Joy on this living book to read my death . Then is she gone ? O fool and coward I ! O good occasion lost , ne'er to be found ! What fatal chains have my dull senses bound , When best they may , that they not fortune try ? Here ...
... breathe ) Joy on this living book to read my death . Then is she gone ? O fool and coward I ! O good occasion lost , ne'er to be found ! What fatal chains have my dull senses bound , When best they may , that they not fortune try ? Here ...
Sida 32
... breathe , And with her tresses play , Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death . The winds all silent are , And Phoebus in his chair , Ensaffroning sea and air , Makes vanish every star : Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the ...
... breathe , And with her tresses play , Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death . The winds all silent are , And Phoebus in his chair , Ensaffroning sea and air , Makes vanish every star : Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the ...
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Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Castara Comus Cowley crown dark death delight divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory golden Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert Herrick hill honour Hudibras Il Penseroso John Dryden Jonson King L'Allegro Lady light live Lord Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night nymphs o'er odes once Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion pleasure poem poet poet's poetic poetry praise pride reign rose sacred satire shade shepherds sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirits stars stream sweet tears temple thee thence thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton winds wings write youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 260 - Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Sida 323 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Sida 442 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Sida 338 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide ; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Sida 467 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown : He raised a mortal to the skies: She drew an angel down.
Sida 164 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move: This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!
Sida 204 - 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.
Sida 343 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring.
Sida 310 - 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.
Sida 305 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.