The English Poets: Ben Jonson to DrydenThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1880 |
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Стр. vi
... Praise of Fortune ( from Old Fortunatus ) Rustic Song ( from The Sun's Darling ) JOHN FORD ( 1586-1640 ? ) Penthea's Dying Song ( from The Broken Heart ) Calantha's Dirge ( from the Same ) • Awakening Song ( from The Lover's Melancholy ) ...
... Praise of Fortune ( from Old Fortunatus ) Rustic Song ( from The Sun's Darling ) JOHN FORD ( 1586-1640 ? ) Penthea's Dying Song ( from The Broken Heart ) Calantha's Dirge ( from the Same ) • Awakening Song ( from The Lover's Melancholy ) ...
Стр. vii
... Praise of his Mistress PAGE 78 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 • 85 85 . W. T. Arnold 86 90 . 91 • 95 • 97 99 ΙΟΙ · 102 · 103 Prof. J. W. Hales 104 · 106 Prof. J. W. Hales 108 · . 109 109 Edmund W. Gosse III 115 115 116 117 118 118 119 119 120 121 ...
... Praise of his Mistress PAGE 78 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 • 85 85 . W. T. Arnold 86 90 . 91 • 95 • 97 99 ΙΟΙ · 102 · 103 Prof. J. W. Hales 104 · 106 Prof. J. W. Hales 108 · . 109 109 Edmund W. Gosse III 115 115 116 117 118 118 119 119 120 121 ...
Стр. xi
... Praise of the Thames Against Love . Song from The Sophy Extract from The Elegy on Cowley THOMAS STANLEY ( 1625-1678 ) Celia Singing The Tomb SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT ( 1605-1668 ) Extract from Gondibert Song On the Captivity of the Countess ...
... Praise of the Thames Against Love . Song from The Sophy Extract from The Elegy on Cowley THOMAS STANLEY ( 1625-1678 ) Celia Singing The Tomb SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT ( 1605-1668 ) Extract from Gondibert Song On the Captivity of the Countess ...
Стр. 2
... century , who in many respects ( not including creative gifts ) so strangely resembles him , he loved to measure and qualify even the praise which came warmest from his heart . In order to judge of 2 THE ENGLISH POETS .
... century , who in many respects ( not including creative gifts ) so strangely resembles him , he loved to measure and qualify even the praise which came warmest from his heart . In order to judge of 2 THE ENGLISH POETS .
Стр. 3
... praise which from Jonson weighs heaviest - the praise of Shakspere's art - was precisely that of which many generations delighting in the poet's ' native woodnotes wild ' failed to understand the meaning . As a matter of course , Jonson ...
... praise which from Jonson weighs heaviest - the praise of Shakspere's art - was precisely that of which many generations delighting in the poet's ' native woodnotes wild ' failed to understand the meaning . As a matter of course , Jonson ...
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Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw death delight died divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert heroic couplet Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Jonson King Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poet's poetic poetry praise pride rose sacred shade shalt shine sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton weep winds wings write youth
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Стр. 324 - Alas ! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair ? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days...
Стр. 458 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long ; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Стр. 315 - And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Стр. 218 - 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. 455 - A daring pilot in extremity, Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms ; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Стр. 309 - Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, Are at their savoury dinner set Of herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses, And then in haste her bower she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; Or, if the earlier season lead, To the tann'd haycock in the mead. Sometimes, with secure delight, The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid...
Стр. 301 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
Стр. 324 - Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears ; ' Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies ; But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.
Стр. 274 - Go, lovely Rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Стр. 326 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...