Què opinen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
admirable Allan April Fool beauty better blessing boys character child Christ's Hospital Clare common confess countenance day's pleasuring dear delight dreams Elinor eye of mind face fancy fear feel gentle gentleman give grace Hamlet hand hath head heart Hertfordshire Hogarth honour hour humour imagination Inner Temple kind knew lady less lived look Macbeth manner master mind mirth moral morning nature never night occasion once Othello pain passed passion person play pleasant pleasure poet poor quadrille Quaker Rake's Progress reader reason remember Rosamund scene seemed seen sense Shakspeare sight Sir Philip Sydney smile sort soul speak specta spirit story sweet Tamburlaine tender thee things thou thought tion Titian told true truth walk watchet whist Widford WILLIAM ROWLEY woman young youth
Pàgina 100 - Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Pàgina 100 - What wondrous life is this I lead ! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine, and curious peach, Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Pàgina 233 - I read it in thy looks ; thy languisht grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit ? Are beauties there as proud as here they be ? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn, whom that love doth possess ? Do they call virtue there — ungratefulness ? The last line of this poem is a little obscured by transposition.
Pàgina 100 - twas beyond a mortal's share To wander solitary there: Two paradises 'twere in one To live in paradise alone. How well the skilful gardener drew Of flowers and herbs this dial new; Where from above the milder sun Does through a fragrant zodiac run; And, as it works, the industrious bee Computes its time as well as we. How could such sweet and wholesome hours Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers!
Pàgina 140 - Father, the pig, the pig, do come and taste how nice the burnt pig eats." The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his son, and he cursed himself that ever he should beget a son that should eat burnt pig.
Pàgina 357 - tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new.
Pàgina 162 - Saturn's reign Such mixture was not held a stain: Oft in glimmering bowers and glades He met her, and in secret shades Of woody Ida's inmost grove, While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Pàgina 120 - Here John slyly deposited back upon the plate a bunch of grapes, which, not unobserved by Alice, he had meditated dividing with her, and both seemed willing to relinquish them for the present as irrelevant. Then in somewhat a more heightened tone, I told how, though their great-grandmother Field loved all her grand-children, yet in an especial manner she might be said to love their uncle, John L , because he was so handsome and spirited a youth, and a king to the rest of us ; and, instead of moping...
Pàgina 359 - ... thought on ; even as he himself neglects it. On the stage we see nothing but corporal infirmities and weakness, the impotence of rage ; while we read it, we see not Lear, but we are Lear,— we are in his mind, we are sustained by a grandeur which baffles the malice of daughters and storms ; in the aberrations of his reason, we discover a mighty irregular power of reasoning, immethodized from the ordinary purposes of life, but exerting its powers, as the wind blows where it listeth, at will upon...
Pàgina 233 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies ; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case ; I read it in thy looks ; thy languisht grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries...