Chaucer to BurnsRossiter Johnson D. Appleton, 1876 |
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Стр. 27
... praise , to you eke longes his love . Let not his love , let not his restless sprite , Be unreveng'd , that calls to you above From wand'ring Stygian shores , where it doth endless move . " Thereto said he , " Fair dame , be naught dis ...
... praise , to you eke longes his love . Let not his love , let not his restless sprite , Be unreveng'd , that calls to you above From wand'ring Stygian shores , where it doth endless move . " Thereto said he , " Fair dame , be naught dis ...
Стр. 30
... praise , If either salves , or oils , or herbs , or charms , A fordone wight from door of death mote raise , He would at her request prolong her nephew's days . " Ah dame , " quoth he , " thou temptest me in vain To dare the thing ...
... praise , If either salves , or oils , or herbs , or charms , A fordone wight from door of death mote raise , He would at her request prolong her nephew's days . " Ah dame , " quoth he , " thou temptest me in vain To dare the thing ...
Стр. 63
... praise . How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use , If thou couldst answer- " This fair child of mine Shall sum my count , and make my old excuse- " Proving his beauty by succession thine . This were to be new - made when thou art ...
... praise . How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use , If thou couldst answer- " This fair child of mine Shall sum my count , and make my old excuse- " Proving his beauty by succession thine . This were to be new - made when thou art ...
Стр. 68
... praise to mine own self bring ? And what is't but mine own , when I praise thee ? Even for this let us divided live , And our dear love lose name of single one , That by this separation I may give That due to thee , which thou deserv'st ...
... praise to mine own self bring ? And what is't but mine own , when I praise thee ? Even for this let us divided live , And our dear love lose name of single one , That by this separation I may give That due to thee , which thou deserv'st ...
Стр. 70
... praise shall still find Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom . So till the judgment that yourself arise , You live in this , and dwell in lovers ' eyes . LVI . Sweet love , renew thy force ; be ...
... praise shall still find Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom . So till the judgment that yourself arise , You live in this , and dwell in lovers ' eyes . LVI . Sweet love , renew thy force ; be ...
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Adam angel Archimago Arcite arm'd arms aught beast beauty behold Ben Jonson bliss blood call'd cloud courser dark dear death deep delight dost doth dreadful dwell Earth Elfin Knight eternal evil eyes Faerie Queene Faery Knight fair faith false fate fear fierce fight fire flames flowers foul fruit gentle glory gold grace ground hand happy hast hate hath heart Heaven heavenly Hell honor king lady light live lord Lycidas mighty mind mortal Muse never nigh night Nut-brown Maid nymph o'er pain Paradise praise prince proud quoth rais'd Redcross rest return'd Saracen Satan seem'd sight soon sorrow soul spake spirit sprite stood sweet taste Thebes thee thence Theseus thine things thither thou art thou hast thought throne thyself tree turn'd unto vex'd ween wind wings
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Стр. 66 - Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, — and then my state (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate ; For thy sweet love remembered, such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Стр. 102 - 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. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly...
Стр. 112 - Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.
Стр. 201 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask ? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In Liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which...
Стр. 110 - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony — That Orpheus...
Стр. 112 - To scorn delights and live laborious days: But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life.
Стр. 72 - No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe.
Стр. 150 - Angels: for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Стр. 112 - Closed o'er the head of your loved 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 — for what could that have done?
Стр. 292 - THE spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. The unwearied sun from day to day Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail The moon takes Up the wondrous tale...