Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, 第 1 卷Bulmer, 1803 - 458 頁 |
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第 1 到 5 筆結果,共 56 筆
第 19 頁
... live always in great horroùr , And say , it goeth by destiny To hang or wed : both hath one hour . And , whether it be , I am well sure , Hanging is better of the twain ; Sooner done , and shorter pain . The minor poets of this reign ...
... live always in great horroùr , And say , it goeth by destiny To hang or wed : both hath one hour . And , whether it be , I am well sure , Hanging is better of the twain ; Sooner done , and shorter pain . The minor poets of this reign ...
第 47 頁
... Brutus sought by dreams , Like bended moon that leans her lusty side . My king , my country I seek , for whom I live ; O , mighty Jove , the winds for this me give ! The Courtier's Life . IN court to serve decked with SIR THOMAS WYATT . 47.
... Brutus sought by dreams , Like bended moon that leans her lusty side . My king , my country I seek , for whom I live ; O , mighty Jove , the winds for this me give ! The Courtier's Life . IN court to serve decked with SIR THOMAS WYATT . 47.
第 49 頁
... live thrall under the awe Of lordly looks , wrapped within my cloak , To will and lust learning to set a law : - It is not that because I scorn or mock The power of them whom Fortune here hath lent Charge over us , of right to strike ...
... live thrall under the awe Of lordly looks , wrapped within my cloak , To will and lust learning to set a law : - It is not that because I scorn or mock The power of them whom Fortune here hath lent Charge over us , of right to strike ...
第 50 頁
... he that can allow the state Of high Cæsar , and damu Cato to die , That with his death did scape out of the gate From Cæsar's hands , if Livy doth not lie , And would not live where liberty was lost , So 50 SIR THOMAS WYATT .
... he that can allow the state Of high Cæsar , and damu Cato to die , That with his death did scape out of the gate From Cæsar's hands , if Livy doth not lie , And would not live where liberty was lost , So 50 SIR THOMAS WYATT .
第 51 頁
... live where liberty was lost , So did his heart the commonwealth apply . I am not he , such eloquence to boast , * [ To ] praise Sir Thopas for a noble tale , And scorn the story that the knight told : 1 Praise him for counsel that is ...
... live where liberty was lost , So did his heart the commonwealth apply . I am not he , such eloquence to boast , * [ To ] praise Sir Thopas for a noble tale , And scorn the story that the knight told : 1 Praise him for counsel that is ...
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常見字詞
Astrophel and Stella beauty bird bliss born breast Chaucer cheer Christ's College court Cupid dainty dame dear death delight disdain doth E'en earl England's Helicon English eyes fair faith farewell favour fear flowers following specimens Gloss Gorboduc grace green Greensleeves grief hairs Harpalus hath heart heaven Henry VIII honour king kiss lady live look lord lov'd Love's lover lullaby lute mind mourning Muse never night nought Oxford pain pity poems poetical poetry poets praise prep printed pron Puttenham Queen reign scorn shepherd sighs sight sing Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Wyatt Sith song SONNET soul summer queen sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thought translated tree unto verse Vide Sibbald Warton wight wind wine Wood words worth marriage wouldest not love youth
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第 349 頁 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it. My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
第 389 頁 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
第 352 頁 - Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require.
第 351 頁 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
第 334 頁 - Tell them that brave it most, They beg for more by spending, Who, in their greatest cost, Seek nothing but commending: And if they make reply Then give them all the lie.
第 346 頁 - Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night ' That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide...
第 220 頁 - Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When Rivers rage, and Rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb, The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields, To wayward winter reckoning yields, A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
第 388 頁 - Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain; Suns, that set, may rise again ; . But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
第 243 頁 - CUPID and my Campaspe played At cards for kisses — Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin ; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me?* THE SONGS...
第 348 頁 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell ALL.