Selections from the British Poets: Chronologically Arranged from Chaucer to the Present Time, Under Separate Divisions, with Introductions Explaining the Different Species of PoetryCommissioners of National Education in Ireland, 1851 |
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Page 5
... breast some sparkling light Of thine eternal truth , that I may show Some little beams to mortal eyes below , Of that immortal beauty , there with thee , Which in my weak distraughted mind I see ; That with the glory of so goodly sight ...
... breast some sparkling light Of thine eternal truth , that I may show Some little beams to mortal eyes below , Of that immortal beauty , there with thee , Which in my weak distraughted mind I see ; That with the glory of so goodly sight ...
Page 7
... breast . Enough , I reckon wealth ; A mean , the surest lot ; That lies too high for base contempt , Too low for envy's shot . My wishes are but few , All easy to fulfil : I make the limits of my power The bounds unto my will . I have ...
... breast . Enough , I reckon wealth ; A mean , the surest lot ; That lies too high for base contempt , Too low for envy's shot . My wishes are but few , All easy to fulfil : I make the limits of my power The bounds unto my will . I have ...
Page 11
... bear Lock'd up within the casket of thy breast ? What jewels , and what riches hast thou there ? What heav'nly treasure in so weak a chest ? 11 Look in thy soul , and thou shalt beauties find The Immortality of the Soul, Sir John Davies,
... bear Lock'd up within the casket of thy breast ? What jewels , and what riches hast thou there ? What heav'nly treasure in so weak a chest ? 11 Look in thy soul , and thou shalt beauties find The Immortality of the Soul, Sir John Davies,
Page 30
... breast Life and a soul , fit to command the rest , Worthy alone to celebrate his name , For such a gift , and tell from whence it came : Birds sing his praises in a wilder note , But not with lasting numbers , and with thought , Man's ...
... breast Life and a soul , fit to command the rest , Worthy alone to celebrate his name , For such a gift , and tell from whence it came : Birds sing his praises in a wilder note , But not with lasting numbers , and with thought , Man's ...
Page 44
... breast inspire To weary tortures and rejoice in fire ; Or had I faith like that which Israel saw When Moses gave them miracles and law . Yet , gracious Charity ! indulgent guest , Were not thy power exerted in my breast , Those speeches ...
... breast inspire To weary tortures and rejoice in fire ; Or had I faith like that which Israel saw When Moses gave them miracles and law . Yet , gracious Charity ! indulgent guest , Were not thy power exerted in my breast , Those speeches ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALEXANDER POPE AMERICAN POETRY beauty beneath birds bless blest bliss bloom BORN bowers breast breath bright calm charms clouds dark death deep delight Descriptive Poetry DIED doth earth English Poetry eternal fair flowers gaze GILES FLETCHER gloom glorious glory glow grave green happy hast hath heart heaven hills hope hour HYMN JAMES THOMSON labour LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON life's light live look Lord MARK AKENSIDE mighty mind morning mortal mountain mourn murmur nature nature's night numbers o'er pastoral pastoral poetry peace pleasure poetry poets praise prayer rest rill rise ROBERT SOUTHEY round sacred scene shade shine sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring stars stream sweet tears tempest thee THEOCRITUS thine things thou art thought toil trees trembling vale voice wave weary wild WILLIAM COWPER WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings youth
Popular passages
Page 59 - Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death ; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined, from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come...
Page 204 - Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of — say, I taught thee...
Page 203 - To die, to sleep ; To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub ; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause : there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life...
Page 429 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, months and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Page 204 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — O Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down...
Page 325 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon. Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Page 144 - We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, Our neighbour and our work farewell, Nor strive to wind ourselves too high For sinful man beneath the sky : The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask ; Room to deny ourselves ; a road To bring us, daily, nearer God.
Page 375 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
Page 11 - This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all.
Page 355 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.