A dictionary of quotations from the British poets, by the author of The peerage and baronetage charts, &c |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 75.
Pàgina 9
I must not look to have ; but in their stead , Curses , not loud , but deep , mouth - honour , breath , Which the poor heart would fain deny , and dare not . ALARM . What's the business , That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The ...
I must not look to have ; but in their stead , Curses , not loud , but deep , mouth - honour , breath , Which the poor heart would fain deny , and dare not . ALARM . What's the business , That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The ...
Pàgina 11
Give him no breath , but now Make boot of his distraction ; never anger Made good guard for itself . Anger's my meat ; I sup upon myself , And so shall starve with feeding . Now , by the ground that I am banish'd from Well could I curse ...
Give him no breath , but now Make boot of his distraction ; never anger Made good guard for itself . Anger's my meat ; I sup upon myself , And so shall starve with feeding . Now , by the ground that I am banish'd from Well could I curse ...
Pàgina 13
Seems , madam ! nay , it is ; I know not seems , ' Tis not alone my inky cloak , good mother , Nor customary suits of solemn black , Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath , No , nor the fruitful river in the eye , Nor the dejected ...
Seems , madam ! nay , it is ; I know not seems , ' Tis not alone my inky cloak , good mother , Nor customary suits of solemn black , Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath , No , nor the fruitful river in the eye , Nor the dejected ...
Pàgina 17
I've stoopt my neck under your injuries , And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds Eating the bitter bread of banishment : While you have fed upon my signiories ; Dis - park'd my parks , and fell'd my forest woods ; From mine own ...
I've stoopt my neck under your injuries , And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds Eating the bitter bread of banishment : While you have fed upon my signiories ; Dis - park'd my parks , and fell'd my forest woods ; From mine own ...
Pàgina 26
I took him for the plainest , harmless't creature , That breath'd upon the earth a christian ; Made him my book , wherein my soul recorded The history of all her secret thoughts . CONSCIENCE . Conscience is but a word that cowards use ...
I took him for the plainest , harmless't creature , That breath'd upon the earth a christian ; Made him my book , wherein my soul recorded The history of all her secret thoughts . CONSCIENCE . Conscience is but a word that cowards use ...
Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
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Frases i termes més freqüents
ambition arms bear beauty blood breath Byron's clouds Cowper's Task curse dare dark dead death deeds deep doth dread dream Dryden's earth eyes face fair fall fate fear feel fire fool fortune gentle give grace grave grief hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven honour hope hour human Ibid Italy keep king leave light live look lord Milton's Paradise Lost mind morning nature never night noble o'er once pain passion peace pleasure poor reason round Rowe's slave sleep smile soft sorrow soul speak spirit stand storm strange sweet tears tell thee things Thomson's thou thought thousand tongue true turn virtue wind wise woman wretched Young's Night Thoughts youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 52 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep...
Pàgina 7 - With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Pàgina 53 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?
Pàgina 238 - Sleep, O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down. And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Pàgina 10 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Pàgina 75 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Pàgina 46 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
Pàgina 133 - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Pàgina 126 - Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : — But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, Where either I must live or bear no life, The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in ! Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin, Ay, there, look grim as hell ! Des.
Pàgina 145 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Informació bibliogràfica
| Títol | A dictionary of quotations from the British poets, by the author of The peerage and baronetage charts, &c |
| Autor | British poets |
| Publicat | 1824 |
| Original de | Universitat d’Oxford |
| Digitalitzat el | 2 Març 2007 |
| Exporta citacions | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |