Specimens of English SonnetsW. Pickering, 1833 - 224 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 27
... mourn The shipwreck of my ill - adventur'd youth ; Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn , Without the torment of the night's untruth . Cease , dreams , the images of day - desires , To model forth the passions of the morrow ...
... mourn The shipwreck of my ill - adventur'd youth ; Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn , Without the torment of the night's untruth . Cease , dreams , the images of day - desires , To model forth the passions of the morrow ...
الصفحة 52
EDMUND SPENSER . LIKE as the culver , on the bared bough , Sits mourning for the absence of her mate , And in her songs sends many a wishful vow For his return , that seems to linger late : So I alone , now left disconsolate , Mourn to ...
EDMUND SPENSER . LIKE as the culver , on the bared bough , Sits mourning for the absence of her mate , And in her songs sends many a wishful vow For his return , that seems to linger late : So I alone , now left disconsolate , Mourn to ...
الصفحة 68
... and true , Making no summer of another's green , Robbing no old to dress his beauty new ; And him as for a map doth nature store , To show false art what beauty was of yore . WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . No longer mourn for me when I 68.
... and true , Making no summer of another's green , Robbing no old to dress his beauty new ; And him as for a map doth nature store , To show false art what beauty was of yore . WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . No longer mourn for me when I 68.
الصفحة 69
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . No longer mourn for me when I am dead , Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world , with vilest worms to dwell : Nay , if you read this line , remember ...
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . No longer mourn for me when I am dead , Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world , with vilest worms to dwell : Nay , if you read this line , remember ...
الصفحة 107
... mourn , This but a lightning is , truce ta'en to breath , For late - born sorrows augur fleet return . Amidst thy sacred cares , and courtly toils , Alexis , when thou shalt hear wandering fame Tell , Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal ...
... mourn , This but a lightning is , truce ta'en to breath , For late - born sorrows augur fleet return . Amidst thy sacred cares , and courtly toils , Alexis , when thou shalt hear wandering fame Tell , Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
ANNA SEWARD beams beauty behold birds bliss bowers breast breath bright brow CHARLOTTE SMITH clouds CYRIACK SKINNER dark dear death delight dost EDMUND SPENSER eyes fade fair faith fame flowers grace green grief grove happy hath heart heaven heavenly HENRY CONSTABLE HENRY KIRKE WHITE honour hope JOHN BAMPFYLDE JOHN MILTON light live looks lov'd love's MICHAEL DRAYTON mind mirth morn mourn Muse never night o'er pale peace Poems praise pride publick rest rose round SAMUEL DANIEL shades shine shore sigh sight silent sing SIR PHILIP SIDNEY Sith sleep smiles songs Sonnet by William sorrow soul spring stars sweet tears thee thine THOMAS EDWARDS THOMAS WARTON thou art thou hast thou shalt thought truth verse virtue vols waste weep WILLIAM DRUMMOND WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH winds wings winter youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 201 - MILTON ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
الصفحة 70 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all the rest.
الصفحة 205 - Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
الصفحة 197 - ONCE did she hold the gorgeous east in fee ; And was the safeguard of the west : the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest child of liberty. She was a maiden city, bright and free ; No guile seduced, no force could violate ; And, when she took unto herself a mate, She must espouse the everlasting sea.
الصفحة 61 - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain* jewels in the carcanet.
الصفحة 81 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now.
الصفحة 122 - I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, 'God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly : thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait.
الصفحة 64 - Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu ; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those.
الصفحة 71 - Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change ? Why, with the time, do I not glance aside To new-found methods and to compounds strange ? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, • That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?
الصفحة 72 - Then hate me when thou wilt ; if ever, now ; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune...