English LyricsKegan Paul, Trench & Company, 1883 - Всего страниц: 296 |
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Стр. ix
... Death XCVI . Song . XCVII . Song . XCVIII . Song on May Morning XCIX . The Lady's Song C. Orsames ' Song CI . Song • CII . On the Assumption James Shirley Simon Wastell Sir Wm . Davenant Sir John Suckling . 137 • Sir John Suckling . 138 ...
... Death XCVI . Song . XCVII . Song . XCVIII . Song on May Morning XCIX . The Lady's Song C. Orsames ' Song CI . Song • CII . On the Assumption James Shirley Simon Wastell Sir Wm . Davenant Sir John Suckling . 137 • Sir John Suckling . 138 ...
Стр. x
... Death of Mr. Robert • 172 • 174 . 175 Alexander Pope 176 • Henry Carey . 177 Levett . CXXV . Ode Samuel Johnson 180 William Collins 182 . • CXXVI . On Fidele , supposed to be Dead . William Collins 182 PAGE CXXVII . Olivia's Song ...
... Death of Mr. Robert • 172 • 174 . 175 Alexander Pope 176 • Henry Carey . 177 Levett . CXXV . Ode Samuel Johnson 180 William Collins 182 . • CXXVI . On Fidele , supposed to be Dead . William Collins 182 PAGE CXXVII . Olivia's Song ...
Стр. xiii
... Death - Bed CLXXXI . Fair Ines . PAGE 252 . 253 • 256 . 258 260 Hartley Coleridge . 262 Thomas Hood Thomas Hood . 263 264 Winthrop M. Praed 267 Winthrop M. Praed 268 CLXXXII . Time's Song CLXXXIII . Fuimus . CLXXXIV . Wolfram's Dirge ...
... Death - Bed CLXXXI . Fair Ines . PAGE 252 . 253 • 256 . 258 260 Hartley Coleridge . 262 Thomas Hood Thomas Hood . 263 264 Winthrop M. Praed 267 Winthrop M. Praed 268 CLXXXII . Time's Song CLXXXIII . Fuimus . CLXXXIV . Wolfram's Dirge ...
Стр. 25
... death reporting , And tell Love's torments , sorrowing for her friend ; Whose drops of blood within your leaves consorting , Report fair Venus ' moans to have no end . may Remorse in pitying of my smart , Dry up my tears , and dwell ...
... death reporting , And tell Love's torments , sorrowing for her friend ; Whose drops of blood within your leaves consorting , Report fair Venus ' moans to have no end . may Remorse in pitying of my smart , Dry up my tears , and dwell ...
Стр. 28
... death - bed peacocks folly , His winding - sheet is shame : His will false , seeming holy , His sole executor blame . From so ungrateful fancy , From such a female frenzy , From them that use me thus : Good Lord deliver us . Let dirge ...
... death - bed peacocks folly , His winding - sheet is shame : His will false , seeming holy , His sole executor blame . From so ungrateful fancy , From such a female frenzy , From them that use me thus : Good Lord deliver us . Let dirge ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
adieu Love Anthony Wood beauty BEN JONSON best fits birds blow bosom breast breath bright brow cold County Guy Cynthia's Revels dead infected dear death delight doth earth England's Helicon eyes fair Samela fancy fear fire fits a little flowers Forget friends GEORGE GASCOIGNE give gone grave hath heart heaven holly Honour lady leaves live look Love is dead Love's lovers lulla lullaby lyric mourn ne'er never NICHOLAS BRETON night numbers o'er old familiar faces pain peace Phillada flouts Phillis pity pleasure poem Queen rage of wind ROBERT SOUTHWELL roses scorn shepherd shine sighs sight sing sleep smile SONG sorrow soul spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine things THOMAS DEKKER thou art thou dost Thou hast thought toil tomb tree ULYSSES unto untrue Love verse waking eye wanton waves weep wert winds youth
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Стр. 120 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against Fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Стр. 186 - 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.
Стр. 224 - And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head; And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But little he'll reck; if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Стр. 66 - A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. W PILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run And do run still, though still I do deplore ? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done ; For I have more.
Стр. 136 - Going to the Wars TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True; a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Стр. 57 - 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. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown...
Стр. 69 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose: Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess, excellently bright!
Стр. 116 - SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die.
Стр. 216 - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Стр. 81 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity : 'Fie, fie, fie...