The English poets, selections, ed. by T.H. Ward. Chaucer to DonneThomas Humphry Ward 1880 |
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Página 141
... nocht effeird Bot to and fro out ouer him tuke thair trace , Sum tirllit at the campis 13 of his beird , Sum spairit nocht to claw him on the face ; Merie and glaid , thus dansit thay ane space , Till at the last the nobill Lyoun woke ...
... nocht effeird Bot to and fro out ouer him tuke thair trace , Sum tirllit at the campis 13 of his beird , Sum spairit nocht to claw him on the face ; Merie and glaid , thus dansit thay ane space , Till at the last the nobill Lyoun woke ...
Página 142
... nocht haif dancit ouer your heid . ' ' Thy fals excuse , ' the Lyoun said agane , ' Sall nocht availl ane myte , I underta11 : I put the case , I had bene deid or slane rest . 6 rather . And syne my skyn bene stoppit 12 full of stra ...
... nocht haif dancit ouer your heid . ' ' Thy fals excuse , ' the Lyoun said agane , ' Sall nocht availl ane myte , I underta11 : I put the case , I had bene deid or slane rest . 6 rather . And syne my skyn bene stoppit 12 full of stra ...
Página 143
... every . 11 2 nobleness , magnanimity . 3 ask . 9 unless . 13 unless it be that of . 5 and 6 unless . 7 and 8 bestow pardon . praise . 12 For ' himself . ' Also , it semis1 nocht your celsitude 2 , Quhilk HENRYSON . 143.
... every . 11 2 nobleness , magnanimity . 3 ask . 9 unless . 13 unless it be that of . 5 and 6 unless . 7 and 8 bestow pardon . praise . 12 For ' himself . ' Also , it semis1 nocht your celsitude 2 , Quhilk HENRYSON . 143.
Página 144
... nocht , bot levit on his pray , And slew baith tayme and wylde , as he wes wont , And in the cuntrie maid ane greit deray7 ; Till at the last , the pepill fand the way This cruell Lyoun how that they mycht tak , Of hempyn cordis strang ...
... nocht , bot levit on his pray , And slew baith tayme and wylde , as he wes wont , And in the cuntrie maid ane greit deray7 ; Till at the last , the pepill fand the way This cruell Lyoun how that they mycht tak , Of hempyn cordis strang ...
Página 151
... nocht incressis thy curage to indyt , Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene , Sangis to mak undir the levis grene . * * 1 morning orisons . * * 2 from the heart . * 3 rays . Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild ...
... nocht incressis thy curage to indyt , Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene , Sangis to mak undir the levis grene . * * 1 morning orisons . * * 2 from the heart . * 3 rays . Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild ...
Índice
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343 | |
347 | |
362 | |
367 | |
376 | |
389 | |
398 | |
155 | |
159 | |
166 | |
173 | |
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187 | |
202 | |
209 | |
232 | |
239 | |
263 | |
270 | |
275 | |
300 | |
313 | |
322 | |
406 | |
424 | |
430 | |
458 | |
466 | |
474 | |
489 | |
495 | |
505 | |
516 | |
537 | |
543 | |
551 | |
558 | |
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The English Poets, Selections, Ed. by T.H. Ward. Chaucer to Donne Thomas Humphry Ward Pré-visualização indisponível - 2015 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
appears arms ballads beauty better blood born bring cause Chaucer Court dead dear death delight desire doth earth Elizabethan English eyes face fair fall fear fire follow fortune give gold grace green hand hath head hear heart heaven hold honour hope Italy king lady language learned leave less light lines live look Lord lovers master mind nature never night passed passion play pleasure poems poet poetical poetry praise Queen rest rich Robin Hood seems sense Sidney sight sing sleep sometimes song sonnets soon soul spring Stella story strong sweet tell thair thee thing thou thought true truth turn unto Venus verse virtue worth write written young
Passagens conhecidas
Página 459 - 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.
Página 449 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
Página 448 - When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope...
Página 450 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Página 485 - IF all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
Página 458 - Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
Página 450 - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain* jewels in the carcanet.
Página xiii - THE future of poetry is immense, because in poetry, where it is worthy of its high destinies, our race, as time goes on, will find an ever surer and surer stay. There is not a creed which is not shaken, not an accredited dogma which is not shown to be questionable, not a received tradition which does not threaten to dissolve.
Página 347 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies : How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries?
Página 423 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?