Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to Chaucer : Typical Selections from the Great PoetsSilver, Burdett, 1892 - 308 páginas |
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Página 6
... Pope for its high priests , it remained for a century and a half the favorite of the liter- ary world , the model of poetic diction , the standard of poetic taste . We should learn that , towards the end of the eighteenth century ...
... Pope for its high priests , it remained for a century and a half the favorite of the liter- ary world , the model of poetic diction , the standard of poetic taste . We should learn that , towards the end of the eighteenth century ...
Página 11
... POPE : - From the Essay on Criticism Ode on St. Cecilia's Day BY JOHN DRYDEN : — Alexander's Feast The Fire of London Reason and Religion . BY JOHN MILTON : — - On the Morning of Christ's Nativity Wordsworth's Sonnet to Milton BY ROBERT ...
... POPE : - From the Essay on Criticism Ode on St. Cecilia's Day BY JOHN DRYDEN : — Alexander's Feast The Fire of London Reason and Religion . BY JOHN MILTON : — - On the Morning of Christ's Nativity Wordsworth's Sonnet to Milton BY ROBERT ...
Página 47
... Pope gives a similar picture : " Behold the child , by Nature's kindly law , Pleased with a rattle , tickled with a straw ; Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight , A little louder , but as empty quite . " — Essay on Man . When ...
... Pope gives a similar picture : " Behold the child , by Nature's kindly law , Pleased with a rattle , tickled with a straw ; Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight , A little louder , but as empty quite . " — Essay on Man . When ...
Página 95
... Pope sought , but beautiful form was sought after . Men like Thomas Gray and William Col- lins strove to pour into ... Pope's . Cowper's style , in such poems as the Lines to my Mother's Picture , arises out of the simplest pathos , and ...
... Pope sought , but beautiful form was sought after . Men like Thomas Gray and William Col- lins strove to pour into ... Pope's . Cowper's style , in such poems as the Lines to my Mother's Picture , arises out of the simplest pathos , and ...
Página 96
... Pope ( 1688-1744 ) . See biographical note , page 155 . Thomas Parnell ( 1679–1718 ) . Edward Young ( 1684-1765 ) . 66 Resignation . " " The Hermit " ; short poems . “ Night Thoughts " ; " The Last Day " ; Allan Ramsay ( 1686–1758 ) ...
... Pope ( 1688-1744 ) . See biographical note , page 155 . Thomas Parnell ( 1679–1718 ) . Edward Young ( 1684-1765 ) . 66 Resignation . " " The Hermit " ; short poems . “ Night Thoughts " ; " The Last Day " ; Allan Ramsay ( 1686–1758 ) ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Æneid ancient ballads bard beauty Ben Jonson biographical note born bright Burns called century Chaucer Christabel Cowper death doth Dryden earth end my song English poetry English Poets Essay eyes Faerie Queene fair fame Feast fire flowers gold Gray Greek happy hast hath hear heart heaven honor Hood John John Dryden JOHN LYDGATE King lady Lady of Shalott literature living London Lord loud Lycidas lyric Milton morning Muse ne'er never night numbers o'er Oliver Goldsmith Paradise Lost poetical poetry Pope praise rhyme ROBERT HENRYSON Robin Robin Hood rose runne softly says sche Shakespeare Shelley short poems sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep soft Sonnets soul sound Spenser stanza stars Stopford Brooke suld Sweet Themmes thee thine thou thought Timotheus unto verse versification wild wind word write
Pasajes populares
Página 70 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
Página 41 - And unto this he frames his song : Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife ; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his
Página 85 - Darkling I listen ; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy 1 Still would'st thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Página 51 - THE SOLITARY REAPER. BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Página 131 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Página 37 - There was a time when meadow, grove and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Página 69 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Página 126 - Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault.
Página 41 - What was so fugitive ! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction : not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest — Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood...
Página 44 - The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.