Andrew Marvell

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Macmillan, 1905 - 241 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 45 - 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, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Pàgina 89 - ... a Liberty to Tender Consciences and that no man shall be disquieted or called in question for differences of opinion in matters of religion which do not disturb the peace of the kingdom...
Pàgina 47 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near, And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Pàgina 45 - Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men: Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow; Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress
Pàgina 151 - Woe is me, my mother, that thou hast borne me a man of strife and a man of contention to the whole earth ! I have neither lent on usury, nor men have lent to me on usury; yet every one of them doth curse me.
Pàgina 66 - The tragic scaffold might adorn, While round the armed bands, Did clap their bloody hands. He nothing common did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try ; Nor call'd the gods with vulgar spite To vindicate his helpless right, But bow'd his comely head Down, as upon a bed.
Pàgina 45 - How vainly men themselves amaze, To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their incessant labours see Crowned from some single herb, or tree, Whose short and narrow-verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid, While all the flowers and trees do close To weave the garlands of repose ! Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear?
Pàgina 21 - Tis resolved, for Nature pleads that he Should only rule who most resembles me. Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, Mature in dulness from his tender years ; Shadwell alone of all my sons is he Who stands confirmed in full stupidity. The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, But Shadwell never deviates into sense.
Pàgina 67 - War's and Fortune's son, March indefatigably on ; And for the last effect Still keep the sword erect : Besides the force it has to fright The spirits of the shady night, The same arts that did gain A power, must it maintain.
Pàgina 227 - Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines; Curl me about, ye gadding vines; And oh so close your circles lace, That I may never leave this place; But, lest your fetters prove too weak, Ere I your silken bondage break, Do you, O brambles, chain me too, And, courteous briars, nail me through.

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