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 86.
Pàgina 12
This strained passion doth you wrong , my Lord : Sweet Earl , divorce not wisdom from your honour . They are as gentle As zephyrs , blowing below the violet , Not wagging his sweet head ; and yet as rough , Their royal blood enchaf'd ...
This strained passion doth you wrong , my Lord : Sweet Earl , divorce not wisdom from your honour . They are as gentle As zephyrs , blowing below the violet , Not wagging his sweet head ; and yet as rough , Their royal blood enchaf'd ...
Pàgina 14
Our battle is more full of names than yours , Our men more perfect in the use of arms , Our armour all as strong , our cause , the best : Then reason wills , our heart should be as good . lies ; Why do you stay so long , my lords of 14 ...
Our battle is more full of names than yours , Our men more perfect in the use of arms , Our armour all as strong , our cause , the best : Then reason wills , our heart should be as good . lies ; Why do you stay so long , my lords of 14 ...
Pàgina 15
Why do you stay so long , my lords of France ? Yon island carrions , desperate of their bones , I'll favour'dly become the morning field : Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose , And our air shakes them passing scornfully .
Why do you stay so long , my lords of France ? Yon island carrions , desperate of their bones , I'll favour'dly become the morning field : Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose , And our air shakes them passing scornfully .
Pàgina 25
Behold , my Lords , Although the print be little , the whole matter And copy of the father : eye , nose , lip , The trick of his frown , his forehead ; nay , the valley , The pretty dimples of his chin , and cheek ; his smiles ...
Behold , my Lords , Although the print be little , the whole matter And copy of the father : eye , nose , lip , The trick of his frown , his forehead ; nay , the valley , The pretty dimples of his chin , and cheek ; his smiles ...
Pàgina 26
O Lord , my boy , my Arthur , my fair son ; My life , my joy , my soul , my all the world ; My widow's comfort , and my sorrow's care ! CLERGY . Love and meekness , Lord , Become a churchman better than ambition ; Win straying souls ...
O Lord , my boy , my Arthur , my fair son ; My life , my joy , my soul , my all the world ; My widow's comfort , and my sorrow's care ! CLERGY . Love and meekness , Lord , Become a churchman better than ambition ; Win straying souls ...
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 |