The book of English poetry, with critical and biogr. sketches of the poets1853 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 47.
Pàgina 11
... passed into the skies . " All the advantages of birth and station , however , could not compensate the poet for the loss so touchingly com- memorated in the beautiful poem above referred to . He was only about six years old on the death ...
... passed into the skies . " All the advantages of birth and station , however , could not compensate the poet for the loss so touchingly com- memorated in the beautiful poem above referred to . He was only about six years old on the death ...
Pàgina 19
... passed almost at once from the position of a despised and mean fugitive , skulking in fear of a jail , to a man of acknowledged genius and vigorous intellect , who was greeted with universal admiration from high and low throughout his ...
... passed almost at once from the position of a despised and mean fugitive , skulking in fear of a jail , to a man of acknowledged genius and vigorous intellect , who was greeted with universal admiration from high and low throughout his ...
Pàgina 23
... passed through the gradations of Usher in the Grammar School at Aberdeen , Professor of Natural Philosophy in Marischal College , and finally of Professor of Moral Phi- losophy and Logic in the Aberdeen University . In 1770 , he ...
... passed through the gradations of Usher in the Grammar School at Aberdeen , Professor of Natural Philosophy in Marischal College , and finally of Professor of Moral Phi- losophy and Logic in the Aberdeen University . In 1770 , he ...
Pàgina 27
... passed . ROBERT SOUTHEY , LL.D. BORN , 1773 ; DIED , 1835 . SOUTHEY , the son of a draper in Bristol , is distinguished as one of the most voluminous writers of his age . His learning was great , and the copiousness of his mind seemed ...
... passed . ROBERT SOUTHEY , LL.D. BORN , 1773 ; DIED , 1835 . SOUTHEY , the son of a draper in Bristol , is distinguished as one of the most voluminous writers of his age . His learning was great , and the copiousness of his mind seemed ...
Pàgina 30
English poetry. THOMAS MOORE , BORN 1780 ; DIED , 1852 . HAS just passed away from among us . He was born in Dublin , and though his larger poems are gorgeous oriental compositions , his name and enduring memory will chiefly depend ...
English poetry. THOMAS MOORE , BORN 1780 ; DIED , 1852 . HAS just passed away from among us . He was born in Dublin , and though his larger poems are gorgeous oriental compositions , his name and enduring memory will chiefly depend ...
Continguts
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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Book of English Poetry, With Critical and Biogr. Sketches of the Poets Previsualització no disponible - 2020 |
The Book of English Poetry, with Critical and Biogr. Sketches of the Poets English Poetry Previsualització no disponible - 2016 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Allan Ramsay amid beauty Ben Jonson beneath blessed born breast breath bright burning CAROLINE BOWLES Charles II Chaucer clouds crown dark dead death deep died dost doth dread dream Earl of Surrey earth EDMUND SPENSER Elizabethan era England eternal eyes fair fame father flowers frae gaze genius gentle glorious glory glowing grace grave green happy hast hath heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre holy honour hour HYMN king land light live look Lord lyre mind morning mountain never night noble o'er pain PHILIP MASSINGER poems poet praise pride Queen rise round shade Shakspeare shine sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound Spenser spirit spring stars storm stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought vale voice waves weary weep Westminster Abbey wild wind wings wood youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 81 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Pàgina 142 - MY HEART aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Pàgina 346 - THE Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noonday walks He shall attend, . And all my midnight hours defend.
Pàgina 145 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Pàgina 431 - And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake let us sit upon the ground...
Pàgina 378 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Pàgina 260 - Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live ; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die.
Pàgina 136 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Pàgina 145 - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers; And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook Or by a cider-press, with patient look Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Pàgina 58 - THOU lingering star, with lessening ray That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my heart was torn. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast...