Recollections of a Literary LifeHarper, 1855 - 558 pages |
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Page 8
... thou proud portér , " Sayes , " Christ thee save and see . " " Now you be welcome , " sayd the portér , " Of what land soever ye be . " " We been harpers , " sayd Adler yonge , " Come out of the north countrée ; We been come hither ...
... thou proud portér , " Sayes , " Christ thee save and see . " " Now you be welcome , " sayd the portér , " Of what land soever ye be . " " We been harpers , " sayd Adler yonge , " Come out of the north countrée ; We been come hither ...
Page 9
... Thou harper , here to me ; There is a man within this halle , That will beate thy ladd and thee . " " O lett that ... thou proud harpér , Now staye thy harpe saye ; For an thou playest as thou beginnest , Thou'lt till my bride awaye ...
... Thou harper , here to me ; There is a man within this halle , That will beate thy ladd and thee . " " O lett that ... thou proud harpér , Now staye thy harpe saye ; For an thou playest as thou beginnest , Thou'lt till my bride awaye ...
Page 10
... thou shalt have , As there be stryngs thereon . " " And what wolde ye doe with my harpe ? " he sayd , " If I did sell it yee ? " To playe my wyfe and I a fitt , When we together be . " " Nowe sell me , Sir Kyng , thy bryde soe gay , As ...
... thou shalt have , As there be stryngs thereon . " " And what wolde ye doe with my harpe ? " he sayd , " If I did sell it yee ? " To playe my wyfe and I a fitt , When we together be . " " Nowe sell me , Sir Kyng , thy bryde soe gay , As ...
Page 12
... thou must give the lie . Tell age it daily wasteth ; Tell honor how it alters . Tell beauty how she blasteth ; Tell favor how she falters ; And as they shall reply , Give each of them the lie . Tell wit how much it wrangles In fickle ...
... thou must give the lie . Tell age it daily wasteth ; Tell honor how it alters . Tell beauty how she blasteth ; Tell favor how she falters ; And as they shall reply , Give each of them the lie . Tell wit how much it wrangles In fickle ...
Page 13
... thou hast , as I Commanded thee , done blabbing , Although to give the lie Deserve no less than stabbing , Yet stab at thee who will , No stab the soul can kill . WINIFREDA . About the authorship of this beautiful address to conjugal ...
... thou hast , as I Commanded thee , done blabbing , Although to give the lie Deserve no less than stabbing , Yet stab at thee who will , No stab the soul can kill . WINIFREDA . About the authorship of this beautiful address to conjugal ...
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Common terms and phrases
admirable ballads beauty Ben Jonson bird Bonny Dundee Bradshaigh bright brother called charming dear death delight doth EACUS English EURIPIDES eyes fair father fear feeling flowers Gelert gentlemen Gerald Griffin Goodere grace hand happy hath hear heard heart Hepzibah honor horse Joanna Baillie John Banim kind King Klopstock Kyng lady laughed letters light lived look Lord Mahony maid mignonette Molière morning murder never night noble o'er once Pan is dead passed person pleasure poems poet poetry poor praise round SACK OF BALTIMORE scene seemed sing smile Soggarth aroon song spirit story sweet tears tell thee There's thing Thomas Holcroft thou thought took trees truth Twas Ufton Court verse walk wild Winthrop Mackworth Praed wirra-sthru wonder words write wyfe XANTHIAS young youth
Popular passages
Page 544 - I know they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous dragon's teeth ; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image ; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye.
Page 543 - STUDIES serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring ; for ornament, is in discourse ; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one ; but the general counsels, and the plots, and marshalling of affairs come best from those that are learned.
Page 201 - Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie. My music shows ye have your closes. And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.
Page 318 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Page 314 - Higher still and higher, From the earth thou springest, Like a cloud of fire ; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run ; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
Page 318 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild...
Page 242 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And 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.
Page 180 - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; 'Good speed!' cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew ;
Page 392 - Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain — Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Page 429 - ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, •** Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruin'd tower.