The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions, Volume 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1905 - English poetry |
From inside the book
Page 5
... Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue would have been necessary to bring into fullest relief what was owed to Jonson by the writer of the greatest - without rival or parallel - of all English masques . Is it inconceivable that our poets should ...
... Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue would have been necessary to bring into fullest relief what was owed to Jonson by the writer of the greatest - without rival or parallel - of all English masques . Is it inconceivable that our poets should ...
Page 12
... pleasures of the stage , And relishes of rhyme ; Add all the softnesses of courts , The looks , the laughters and the sports ; And mingle all their sweets and salts , That none may say the triumph halts . ODE TO HIMSELF . [ Written ...
... pleasures of the stage , And relishes of rhyme ; Add all the softnesses of courts , The looks , the laughters and the sports ; And mingle all their sweets and salts , That none may say the triumph halts . ODE TO HIMSELF . [ Written ...
Page 30
... pleasures double but new woe ? SEXTAIN . The heaven doth not contain so many stars , So many leaves not prostrate lie in woods , When autumn's old , and Boreas sounds his wars , So many waves have not the ocean floods , As my rent mind ...
... pleasures double but new woe ? SEXTAIN . The heaven doth not contain so many stars , So many leaves not prostrate lie in woods , When autumn's old , and Boreas sounds his wars , So many waves have not the ocean floods , As my rent mind ...
Page 39
... pleasure prove , And quaff'd with Cupid sugar'd draughts of love Then , Jove - like , feeding on a nectar'd breath . Now judge which of us two might be most proud ; He got a kiss yet not enjoy'd it right , And I got none , yet tasted ...
... pleasure prove , And quaff'd with Cupid sugar'd draughts of love Then , Jove - like , feeding on a nectar'd breath . Now judge which of us two might be most proud ; He got a kiss yet not enjoy'd it right , And I got none , yet tasted ...
Page 41
... pleasure , Even in the greatest measure It should not make him bold : For while he lives secure , His state is most unsure ; When it doth least appear Some heavy plague draws near , Destruction to procure . World's glory is but like a ...
... pleasure , Even in the greatest measure It should not make him bold : For while he lives secure , His state is most unsure ; When it doth least appear Some heavy plague draws near , Destruction to procure . World's glory is but like a ...
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Common terms and phrases
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Castara Catullus charm Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw crown death delight died dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers foes Giles Fletcher give glory grace Habington hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert heroic couplet Herrick Hesperides honour Hudibras Jonson King kiss light live Lord Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise rose sacred satire shade shine sighs sing sleep song sonnet soul stars Sweet Spirit tears thee thine things thou shalt thought tree verse Waller wanton weep WILLIAM HABINGTON winds wings write youth
Popular passages
Page 218 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, poor captives, creep to death.
Page 218 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 204 - I should (said He) Bestow this jewel also on My creature, He would adore My gifts instead of Me, And rest in nature, not the God of nature : So both should losers be. Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness : Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to My breast.
Page 455 - A daring pilot in extremity, Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms ; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Page 301 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
Page 185 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Page 178 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move: This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!
Page 319 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
Page 326 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Page 328 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.