English Prose and Poetry (1137-1892).John Matthews Manly Ginn and Company, 1916 - 792 sider |
Fra bogen
Side viii
... Mother's Picture JAMES MACPHERSON ( ? ) ( 1736-1796 ) The Poems of Ossian : JAMES BOSWELL ( 1740-1795 ) . The Life of Samuel Johnson , LL.D. , Letter XV , to the Duke of Grafton ..... 351 THOMAS CHATTERTON ( 1752–1770 ) Bristowe ...
... Mother's Picture JAMES MACPHERSON ( ? ) ( 1736-1796 ) The Poems of Ossian : JAMES BOSWELL ( 1740-1795 ) . The Life of Samuel Johnson , LL.D. , Letter XV , to the Duke of Grafton ..... 351 THOMAS CHATTERTON ( 1752–1770 ) Bristowe ...
Side 81
... mother dere , geve over your howsse , Or elles we shalbe deade . " 40 10. " I will not geve over my hous , " she saithe , " Not for feare of my lyffe ; It shalbe talked throughout the land , The slaughter of a wyffe . II . " Fetch me my ...
... mother dere , geve over your howsse , Or elles we shalbe deade . " 40 10. " I will not geve over my hous , " she saithe , " Not for feare of my lyffe ; It shalbe talked throughout the land , The slaughter of a wyffe . II . " Fetch me my ...
Side 82
... Mother gay , geve over your house ; For the smoake it smoothers me . ' 80 20. Out then spake the Lady Margaret , As she stood on the stair ; The fire was at her goud 2 garters , The lowe 3 was at her hair . 21. " I wold geve my gold ...
... Mother gay , geve over your house ; For the smoake it smoothers me . ' 80 20. Out then spake the Lady Margaret , As she stood on the stair ; The fire was at her goud 2 garters , The lowe 3 was at her hair . 21. " I wold geve my gold ...
Side 83
... mother , make my bed soon , For I'm weary wi hunting , and fain wald lie down . " 2. " Where gat ye your dinner , Lord Randal , my son ? Where gat ye your dinner , my handsome young man ? " “ I din'd wi my true - love ; mother , make ...
... mother , make my bed soon , For I'm weary wi hunting , and fain wald lie down . " 2. " Where gat ye your dinner , Lord Randal , my son ? Where gat ye your dinner , my handsome young man ? " “ I din'd wi my true - love ; mother , make ...
Side 98
... mother's maids , when they did sew and spin , They sang sometime a song of the field mouse That , for because her livelihood was but thin , Would needs go seek her townish sister's house . She thought herself endured too much pain ; The ...
... mother's maids , when they did sew and spin , They sang sometime a song of the field mouse That , for because her livelihood was but thin , Would needs go seek her townish sister's house . She thought herself endured too much pain ; The ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Æsop atheism Battle of Otterburn beauty breath called CAPTAIN CAR Corydon dark dead dear death delight doth dream earth English eyes face fair fear flowers forto Gawain hand happy hast hath hear heard heart Heaven Hind Horn honour human king King Arthur kyng lady Lady of Shalott leave light live look Lord man's mind Mother nature never night nymph o'er once Oxus pain pass passion play pleasure poem poet praise quoth rest rose round Rustum sayd sche sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood sweet Tabary tears tell thee ther thine things thou art thought tion truth Twas unto voice weep wild wind wolde words wyfe wyll young youth ΙΟ
Populære passager
Side 210 - I know they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous dragon's teeth ; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image ; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye.
Side 450 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, •To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll!
Side 551 - ... rim. Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer ; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. And all I remember is, friends flocking round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his...
Side 473 - That light whose smile kindles the universe, That beauty in which all things work and move, That benediction which the eclipsing curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which, through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Side 652 - Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more, day by day, You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget...
Side 552 - And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows ! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge — That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture...
Side 431 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake...
Side 449 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye Whose agonies are evils of a day ! — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Side 151 - Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?
Side 179 - Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, Who made the eyes but I ? Truth, Lord, but I have marred them : let my shame Go where it doth deserve.