Poetical Quotations from Chaucer to Tennyson |
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Page 38
... ne'er could have fill'd it so well of him- self . SWIFT . They now assist the choir Of angels , who their songs admire . ANGER . WALLER . You , too weak the slightest loss to bear , Are on the fret of passion , boil and rage . CREECH ...
... ne'er could have fill'd it so well of him- self . SWIFT . They now assist the choir Of angels , who their songs admire . ANGER . WALLER . You , too weak the slightest loss to bear , Are on the fret of passion , boil and rage . CREECH ...
Page 42
... ne'er invent . POPE . ARGUING . Can syllogism set things right ? When men argue , th ' greatest part O ' the contest falls on terms of art , Until the fustian stuff be spent , And then they fall to th ' argument . No , majors soon with ...
... ne'er invent . POPE . ARGUING . Can syllogism set things right ? When men argue , th ' greatest part O ' the contest falls on terms of art , Until the fustian stuff be spent , And then they fall to th ' argument . No , majors soon with ...
Page 48
... er the covers , and not finish'd yet . DRYDEN . Next Petrarch follow'd , and in him we see What rhyme , improved in all its height , can be ; At best a pleasing sound , and sweet barbarity . DRYDEN . Saint Andre's feet ne'er kept more ...
... er the covers , and not finish'd yet . DRYDEN . Next Petrarch follow'd , and in him we see What rhyme , improved in all its height , can be ; At best a pleasing sound , and sweet barbarity . DRYDEN . Saint Andre's feet ne'er kept more ...
Page 53
... ne'er shall fade Its colours ; gently has he laid The mantle o'er thy sad distress , And Venus shall the texture bless . PRIOR . POPE . Shadwell from the town retires To bless the wood with peaceful lyric ; Then hey for praise and ...
... ne'er shall fade Its colours ; gently has he laid The mantle o'er thy sad distress , And Venus shall the texture bless . PRIOR . POPE . Shadwell from the town retires To bless the wood with peaceful lyric ; Then hey for praise and ...
Page 54
... ne'er aspire to epic bays ; Nor lofty Maro stoop to lyric lays . ROSCOMMON . We know that town is but with fishers ... er be so , As Milton , Shakspeare , names that ne'er shall die . SHENSTONE : School - Mistress . Witty as ...
... ne'er aspire to epic bays ; Nor lofty Maro stoop to lyric lays . ROSCOMMON . We know that town is but with fishers ... er be so , As Milton , Shakspeare , names that ne'er shall die . SHENSTONE : School - Mistress . Witty as ...
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Common terms and phrases
ADDISON ANNE BRADSTREET beauty BEN JONSON birds BLACKMORE bless bliss breast breath bright BYRON charms Childe Harold clouds coursers COWLEY COWPER dark death delight DENHAM doth dreams DRYDEN earth eternal ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate fear flowers fools gentle give glory golden grace grief happy hast hath heart heaven honour hope hour Hudibras ISAAC WATTS JOANNA BAILLIE king light live look MILTON mind morning mortal muse N. P. WILLIS nature nature's ne'er never Night Thoughts numbers nymph o'er pain passion peace pleasure POPE pow'r praise pride PRIOR rich ROSCOMMON round shade SHAKSPEARE shine sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul SPENSER spirit spring stars stream sweet SWIFT tears thee thine things THOMSON trees truth virtue voice WALLER WALTER HARTE weep wind wings wise woman words YOUNG youth
Popular passages
Page 159 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Page 382 - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests: in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm. Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime; The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible: even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Page 712 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Page 370 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
Page 105 - O how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of Heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy impart.
Page 646 - I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond ; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be drest in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit: As who should say, 'I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark...
Page 617 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death.
Page 548 - I fear no foe with thee at hand to bless; ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness. Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory? I triumph still, if thou abide with me.
Page 430 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all: And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Page 698 - Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will, for a' that, That sense and worth o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a