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Kentish poets, a series of writers, natives of or residents in Kent ..., Volum 1
Visualització completa - 1821
Kentish Poets, a Series of Writers, Natives of Or Residents in Kent: With ...
Previsualització no disponible - 2016
Kentish Poets, a Series of Writers, Natives of Or Residents in Kent; With ...
Previsualització no disponible - 2019
appear bear beauty born breast bright called character charms court dear death delight divine dread early earth eyes face fair fame fate fear fire flame give grace grove hand happy Hawkesworth head hear heart honour hope human John Kent kind King lady learned leaves letter light live look Lord lost mean mind muse nature never night o'er once original pain pass passion peace perhaps plain poems poet poetic pow'r praise printed published reason rise round sacred scenes shade shine sing smile soft song soon soul sound spring stream sweet taste tears tell thee things thou thought translation verse virtue whilst whole wind wings wish worthy young youth
Pàgina 111 - What woful stuff this madrigal would be In some starved hackney sonneteer or me ! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens ! how the style refines ! Before his sacred name flies every fault, And each exalted stanza teems with thought.
Pàgina 61 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Pàgina 98 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired ; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Pàgina 98 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate...
Pàgina 59 - Night, as clear Hesper, shall our tapers whip From the light casements where we play, And the dark hag from her black mantle strip, And stick there everlasting day. Thus richer than untempted kings are we...
Pàgina 78 - They wither under cold delays, Or are in tempests lost. One while they seem to touch the port, Then straight into the main Some angry wind in cruel sport The vessel drives again. At first Disdain and Pride they fear, Which, if they chance to 'scape, Rivals and Falsehood soon appear In a more dreadful shape. By such degrees to joy they come, And are so long withstood, So slowly they receive the sum, It hardly does them good. 'Tis cruel to prolong a pain; And to defer a joy, Believe me, gentle Celemene,...
Pàgina 55 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Pàgina 69 - Charles); and therefore, as the King has made my daughter a countess, I will endeavour to make his daughter a queen...