Conversations on Some of the Old Poets |
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admire Ęsop Alsemero April 22 Beat Beatrice beautiful become behold body breath cast Chapman Chaucer Chaunticlere child criticism D'Ambois dark death DeFlores delight divine doth dramatists earth expression eyes fancy fear feel flowers genius give grace happy hath hear heart heaven Hero and Leander honor human immortality JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JOHN John Ford kind Knight's Tale language live look Lover's Melancholy melody Milton mind murder nature ness never noble old dramatists Othello outward passage pathos PHILIP Piracquo play poems Poesy poet poetical poetry seems Shakespeare silent silver plumes sing song sorrow soul soul builds speak spirit Sun's Darling sweet sympathy taste tears tell tender thee things THOMAS MIDDLETON thou thought tion touch tragedy Troilus true truly truth turn unto verse voice whole wholly wings wonder words Wordsworth write
Popular passages
Page 47 - O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised: thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hie jacet.
Page 69 - Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that Ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Page 69 - Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men: Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow; Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress
Page 131 - Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear; Say I died true: My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth. Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth!
Page 69 - Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide: There like a bird it sits, and sings, Then whets and claps its silver wings; And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Page 101 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise, To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
Page 131 - 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 everything that pretty bin : My lady sweet, arise! Arise! arise!
Page 7 - Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change : Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange : They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to our desire, Than think that we before have heard them told. Thy registers and thee I both defy, Not...
Page 131 - The lark now leaves his watery nest, And climbing, shakes his dewy wings; He takes this window for the East, And to implore your light he sings: 'Awake, awake, the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.
Page 105 - Through the azure deep of air : Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray, With orient hues unborrow'd of the sun ; Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the Good how far — but far above the Great ! § SA.