Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Introduction to American Literature: Or, The Origin and Development of the ...
Eliphalet L. Rice
Visualització completa - 1846
Introduction to American Literature: Or, the Origin and Development of the ...
E L Rice
Previsualització no disponible - 2018
Introduction to American Literature, Or the Origin and Development of the ...
Eliphalet L. Rice
Previsualització no disponible - 2019
appear beauty become breath bright cause century character charm Chaucer combined comes common dark deep delight display distinction doth earth effect elements English equal exist expression fair fancy feeling flowers gave genius give grace hand harmony hath heart heaven hope human ideas imagination immortal improvement kind king knowledge lady language laws learning leaves less light literature live look Lord meaning melody mind mortal native nature never night object once origin pass passion perfect play poem poet poetic poetry possessed present productions pure reason rich rise rose Saxon says seems seen sense sing single SONG soul sound spirit spring stand stars sweet taste Tell thee things thou thought tion tongue true truth variety verse wonder
Pàgina 354 - Hermes, or unsphere The spirit of Plato, to unfold What worlds or what vast regions hold The immortal mind that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook...
Pàgina 355 - Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That owned the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wond'rous horse of brass, On which the Tartar king did ride; And if aught else, great bards beside, In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of tourneys and of trophies hung; Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Pàgina 355 - And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves And shadows brown that Sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Pàgina 357 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings ; There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Pàgina 272 - How does my royal lord ? How fares your majesty ? Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave : Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Pàgina 353 - There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast. And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing...
Pàgina 354 - Swinging slow with sullen roar ; Or if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Pàgina 352 - He met her, and in secret shades Of woody Ida's inmost grove, While yet there was no fear of Jove. 30 Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole of cypress lawn, 35 Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Pàgina 264 - Who, in their greatest cost, Seek nothing but commending: And if they make reply, Then give them all the lie. Tell zeal it wants devotion; Tell love it is but lust; Tell time it is but motion; Tell flesh it is but dust: And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie.
Pàgina 289 - But you like none, none you, for constant heart. LIV O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves....