Gleanings from the English poets, Chaucer to Tennyson, with biogr. notices of the authors [by R. Inglis].1862 |
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Page iii
... Morning in May , SIR DAVID LINDSAY , 1490-1557 . From " The Complaynt , " In Contemption of Side Tails , Satire on the Three Estates , SIR THOMAS WYATT , 1503–1541 . HENRY HOWARD , Earl of SURREY , 1517-1546 . The Lover's Lute ...
... Morning in May , SIR DAVID LINDSAY , 1490-1557 . From " The Complaynt , " In Contemption of Side Tails , Satire on the Three Estates , SIR THOMAS WYATT , 1503–1541 . HENRY HOWARD , Earl of SURREY , 1517-1546 . The Lover's Lute ...
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... Morning in Paradise , Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn , The Expulsion from Heaven , Expulsion from Paradise , Glory , 103 104 105 105 107 108 109 • 109 From " Samson Agonistes , " 110 From " Comus , " 111 From " L'Allegro , " 112 From " Il ...
... Morning in Paradise , Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn , The Expulsion from Heaven , Expulsion from Paradise , Glory , 103 104 105 105 107 108 109 • 109 From " Samson Agonistes , " 110 From " Comus , " 111 From " L'Allegro , " 112 From " Il ...
Page vi
... Morning , 160 MATTHEW PRIOR , 1664-1721 . Charity , 161 The Chameleon , 163 Poetasters , · JONATHAN SWIFT , 1667-1745 . A City Shower , A Modern Lady , Lines on his Own Death , JOSEPH ADDISON , 1672-1719 . Letter from Italy , 164 165 ...
... Morning , 160 MATTHEW PRIOR , 1664-1721 . Charity , 161 The Chameleon , 163 Poetasters , · JONATHAN SWIFT , 1667-1745 . A City Shower , A Modern Lady , Lines on his Own Death , JOSEPH ADDISON , 1672-1719 . Letter from Italy , 164 165 ...
Page ix
... Morning Landscape , The Hermit , JAMES MACPHERSON , 1738-1796 . 292 293 293 294 Ossian's Address to the Sun , 296 Fingal's Hall , 297 Address to the Moon , 297 From " The Songs of Selma , " 298 MRS THRALE or PIOZZI , 1740-1822 . The ...
... Morning Landscape , The Hermit , JAMES MACPHERSON , 1738-1796 . 292 293 293 294 Ossian's Address to the Sun , 296 Fingal's Hall , 297 Address to the Moon , 297 From " The Songs of Selma , " 298 MRS THRALE or PIOZZI , 1740-1822 . The ...
Page x
... Morning , 321 The Crazed Maiden , Spring , MRS GRANT , 1754-1838 . On a Sprig of Heath , GEORGE CRABBE , 1754–1832 . The Peasant , The Betrothed Pair , The Successful Man , From " The Frank Courtship , " The Approach of Age , From " Sir ...
... Morning , 321 The Crazed Maiden , Spring , MRS GRANT , 1754-1838 . On a Sprig of Heath , GEORGE CRABBE , 1754–1832 . The Peasant , The Betrothed Pair , The Successful Man , From " The Frank Courtship , " The Approach of Age , From " Sir ...
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Common terms and phrases
appeared arms beauty beneath Born breath bright clouds dark dead dear death deep delight Died doth earth eyes face fair fall father fear fire flowers friends gave give glory grace grave green hand happy hast head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour Italy king land leave light live look Lord lost meet mind morning mountains nature never night o'er once pain passed peace pleasure poems poet poor praise pride published rest rise rose round seems seen shade side sigh sleep smile song soon soul sound spirit stream sweet tears tell thee things thou thought till true turn Twas voice wandering wave wild wind wings young youth
Popular passages
Page 251 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Page 429 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes By the deep Sea, and music in its roar : I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Page 50 - ALL the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Page 228 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 48 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice...
Page 252 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Page 79 - When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
Page 51 - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Page 56 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Page 231 - THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth a Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown : fair Science...