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 100.
Pàgina 5
... O father abbot , An old man , broken with the storms of state , Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity . His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; For then , and not till then , he felt himself ...
... O father abbot , An old man , broken with the storms of state , Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity . His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; For then , and not till then , he felt himself ...
Pàgina 8
These old fellows have Their ingratitude in them hereditary : Their blood is cak'd , ' tis cold , it seldom flows ; ' Tis lack of kindly warmth , they are not kind ; And nature , as it grows again toward earth , Is fashion'd for the ...
These old fellows have Their ingratitude in them hereditary : Their blood is cak'd , ' tis cold , it seldom flows ; ' Tis lack of kindly warmth , they are not kind ; And nature , as it grows again toward earth , Is fashion'd for the ...
Pàgina 18
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies , Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth : And victory , with little loss , doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French . Methought , he bore him in the thickest troop , As doth a lion in a ...
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies , Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth : And victory , with little loss , doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French . Methought , he bore him in the thickest troop , As doth a lion in a ...
Pàgina 20
And telling me , the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parmacity , for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity , so it ... This villanous salt - petre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth , Which many a good tall ...
And telling me , the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parmacity , for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity , so it ... This villanous salt - petre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth , Which many a good tall ...
Pàgina 24
Now , Thomas Mowbray , do I turn to thee , And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak , My body shall make good upon this earth , Or my divine soul answer it in heaven . Thou art a traitor and a miscreant . CHARITY .
Now , Thomas Mowbray , do I turn to thee , And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak , My body shall make good upon this earth , Or my divine soul answer it in heaven . Thou art a traitor and a miscreant . CHARITY .
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 |