Literary Studies from the Great British AuthorsG. I. Jones, 1880 - 440 páginas |
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Página 109
... Twas at the royal feast , for Persia won By Philip's warlike son : Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne : His valiant peers were placed around ; Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound : ( So should ...
... Twas at the royal feast , for Persia won By Philip's warlike son : Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne : His valiant peers were placed around ; Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound : ( So should ...
Página 111
... Twas but a kindred sound to move , For pity melts the mind to love . Softly sweet , in Lydian measures , Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures . War , he sung , is toil and trouble ; Honor , but an empty bubble ; Never ending , still ...
... Twas but a kindred sound to move , For pity melts the mind to love . Softly sweet , in Lydian measures , Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures . War , he sung , is toil and trouble ; Honor , but an empty bubble ; Never ending , still ...
Página 129
... Twas first a charming shape enslav'd me , An eye then gave the fatal stroke : " Till by her wit Corinna sav'd me , And all my former fetters broke . But now a long and lasting anguish For Belvidera I endure ; Hourly I sigh and hourly ...
... Twas first a charming shape enslav'd me , An eye then gave the fatal stroke : " Till by her wit Corinna sav'd me , And all my former fetters broke . But now a long and lasting anguish For Belvidera I endure ; Hourly I sigh and hourly ...
Página 172
... Twas sad by fits , by starts ' twas wild . But thou , O Hope , with eyes so fair , What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure , And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain ...
... Twas sad by fits , by starts ' twas wild . But thou , O Hope , with eyes so fair , What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure , And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain ...
Página 179
... Twas well said of thee , Trim , " said my uncle Toby . " But when a soldier , ' said I , ' an ' please your reverence , has been standing for twelve hours together in the 150 trenches , up to his knees in cold water , or engaged ...
... Twas well said of thee , Trim , " said my uncle Toby . " But when a soldier , ' said I , ' an ' please your reverence , has been standing for twelve hours together in the 150 trenches , up to his knees in cold water , or engaged ...
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Literary Studies from the Great British Authors Horace Hills Morgan Sin vista previa disponible - 2012 |
Términos y frases comunes
arms auld lang syne Aurelian beauty blank verse blood blow breath bright Catiline cloud Courtepy cried dark dear death deep doth dream earth Eloisa to Abelard eternal eyes face fair father fear Fevre fire flowers glory grace grave Greece grief hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven helmet of Navarre honour hope horse king kiss light live look lord Lycidas Mayenne mind mother Ida Muse nature never night numbers o'er Odenathus Paradise Lost passion Past tense peace Pickwick poet poor pride Queen rest Robert Montgomery rose round Samian wine Shakespeare sigh sing sleep smile song Sonnet soul sound spirit stood stream sweet sword tears tell thee ther thine things thou art thought Twas uncle Toby verse voice weep wild wind Winkle words youth Zenobia
Pasajes populares
Página 81 - That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said: — But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Página 187 - Await alike the inevitable hour ; The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, ' If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Página 246 - mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes!
Página 200 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven, As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm ; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, • Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Página 167 - Is not a patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached the ground encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it.
Página 241 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight: A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Página 248 - Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence...
Página 238 - Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
Página 43 - Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.
Página 80 - Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me, I fondly dream ! Had ye been there...