The English Poets: Addison to BlakeThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1881 |
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Seite 4
... stands . But O , my muse , what numbers wilt thou find To sing the furious troops in battle join'd ! Methinks I hear the drum's tumultuous sound , The victor's shouts and dying groans confound , The dreadful burst of cannon rend the ...
... stands . But O , my muse , what numbers wilt thou find To sing the furious troops in battle join'd ! Methinks I hear the drum's tumultuous sound , The victor's shouts and dying groans confound , The dreadful burst of cannon rend the ...
Seite 30
... stand Untouched by the rash workman's hand , Till that large stock of sap is spent , Which gives thy summer's ornament ; Till the fierce winds , that vainly strive To shock thy greatness whilst alive , Shall on thy lifeless hour attend ...
... stand Untouched by the rash workman's hand , Till that large stock of sap is spent , Which gives thy summer's ornament ; Till the fierce winds , that vainly strive To shock thy greatness whilst alive , Shall on thy lifeless hour attend ...
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... stands the test of every light , In perfect charms and perfect beauty bright ; When odours , which declined repelling day , Through temperate air uninterrupted stray ; When darkened groves their softest shadows wear , And falling waters ...
... stands the test of every light , In perfect charms and perfect beauty bright ; When odours , which declined repelling day , Through temperate air uninterrupted stray ; When darkened groves their softest shadows wear , And falling waters ...
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... stands , And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands . HORACE , BOOK IV . ODE IX . ADDRESSED TO ARCHBISHOP KING . 1718 . Virtue conceal'd within our breast Is inactivity at best : But never shall the Muse endure To let your virtues ...
... stands , And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands . HORACE , BOOK IV . ODE IX . ADDRESSED TO ARCHBISHOP KING . 1718 . Virtue conceal'd within our breast Is inactivity at best : But never shall the Muse endure To let your virtues ...
Seite 40
... Stand in your sacred presence awed ; Your hand alone from gold abstains , Which drags the slavish world in chains . Him for a happy man I own , Whose fortune is not overgrown ; And happy he who wisely knows To use the gifts that Heaven ...
... Stand in your sacred presence awed ; Your hand alone from gold abstains , Which drags the slavish world in chains . Him for a happy man I own , Whose fortune is not overgrown ; And happy he who wisely knows To use the gifts that Heaven ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
admiration Æsop Ambrose Philips beauty beneath blest born breast breath charm couplet court critics death delight Dryden Dunciad Eclogues English English poetry Epistle Essay Essay on Criticism Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate feel fool frae genius GEORGE SAINTSBURY grace grave Gray Grongar Hill hand happy head heart heaven Horace Horace Walpole kings knave labour literary live Lord Lord Hervey lyre mind moral muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once pain passion Pindaric pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's pow'r praise pride prose rhyme round satire sense shade shine sing smile song soul spirit Spleen style sweet Swift taste tear tell thee things thou thought thro toil trembling truth turns Twas verse virtue Whig wind wise write youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 259 - Thou, O Christ, art all I want, More than all in thee I find ! Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind ; Just and holy is thy name, I am all unrighteousness ; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace.
Seite 256 - Prince of peace ! Hail, the Sun of righteousness ! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings : Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die ; Born to raise the sons of earth ; Born to give them second birth.
Seite 554 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Seite 527 - His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive "Martyrs...
Seite 4 - Inspired repulsed battalions to engage, And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. So when an angel by divine command With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
Seite 283 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Seite 529 - Wallace's undaunted heart, Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part: (The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O never, never Scotia's realm desert; But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!
Seite 375 - Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale; No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear...
Seite 369 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Seite 259 - Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to cover all my sin; Let the healing streams abound, Make and keep me pure within. Thou of life the fountain art; Freely let me take of thee; Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.