Specimens of English Sonnets |
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Page 3
... flies smale ; The busy bee her honey now she mings ; Winter is worn that was the flowers ' bale : And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays , and yet my sorrow springs . SIR PHILIP SIDNEY , ALAS ! have I not pain.
... flies smale ; The busy bee her honey now she mings ; Winter is worn that was the flowers ' bale : And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays , and yet my sorrow springs . SIR PHILIP SIDNEY , ALAS ! have I not pain.
Page 4
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY , ALAS ! have I not pain enough , my friend , Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire Than did on him who first stale down the fire , While Love on me doth all his quiver spend ; But with your rhubarb words ye must ...
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY , ALAS ! have I not pain enough , my friend , Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire Than did on him who first stale down the fire , While Love on me doth all his quiver spend ; But with your rhubarb words ye must ...
Page 15
... pitying her pain ; So she , for whom I wail both day and night , Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint : A just reward for serving such a saint . SIR WALTER RALEIGH . ON SPENSER'S FAERY QUEEne . METHOUGHT 15 Thomas Watson.
... pitying her pain ; So she , for whom I wail both day and night , Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint : A just reward for serving such a saint . SIR WALTER RALEIGH . ON SPENSER'S FAERY QUEEne . METHOUGHT 15 Thomas Watson.
Page 20
... But yet restore thy fierce and cruel mind To Hyrcan tigers and to ruthless bears ; Yield to the marble thy hard heart again : So shalt thou cease to plague , and I to pain . SAMUEL DANIEL . AND yet I cannot reprehend the flight 20.
... But yet restore thy fierce and cruel mind To Hyrcan tigers and to ruthless bears ; Yield to the marble thy hard heart again : So shalt thou cease to plague , and I to pain . SAMUEL DANIEL . AND yet I cannot reprehend the flight 20.
Page 34
... pain , Then shall I say , to give myself content , Obedience only made me love in vain : It was your will , and not my want of wit ; I have the pain , bear you the blame of it . HENRY CONSTABLE . If ever sorrow spoke from soul that 34 ...
... pain , Then shall I say , to give myself content , Obedience only made me love in vain : It was your will , and not my want of wit ; I have the pain , bear you the blame of it . HENRY CONSTABLE . If ever sorrow spoke from soul that 34 ...
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Common terms and phrases
ANNA SEWARD beams beauty behold birds bliss bowers breast breath bright brow CHARLOTTE SMITH clouds CYRIACK SKINNER dark dear death delight dost EDMUND SPENSER eyes fade fair faith fame flowers grace green grief grove happy hath heart heaven heavenly HENRY CONSTABLE HENRY KIRKE WHITE honour hope JOHN BAMPFYLDE JOHN MILTON light live looks lov'd love's MICHAEL DRAYTON mind mirth morn mourn Muse never night o'er pale peace Poems praise pride publick rest rose round SAMUEL DANIEL shades shine shore sigh sight silent sing SIR PHILIP SIDNEY Sith sleep smiles songs Sonnet by William sorrow soul spring stars sweet tears thee thine THOMAS EDWARDS THOMAS WARTON thou art thou hast thou shalt thought truth verse virtue vols waste weep WILLIAM DRUMMOND WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH winds wings winter youth
Popular passages
Page 201 - MILTON ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Page 70 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all the rest.
Page 205 - Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Page 197 - ONCE did she hold the gorgeous east in fee ; And was the safeguard of the west : the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest child of liberty. She was a maiden city, bright and free ; No guile seduced, no force could violate ; And, when she took unto herself a mate, She must espouse the everlasting sea.
Page 61 - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain* jewels in the carcanet.
Page 81 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now.
Page 122 - I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, 'God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly : thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait.
Page 64 - Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu ; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those.
Page 71 - Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change ? Why, with the time, do I not glance aside To new-found methods and to compounds strange ? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, • That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?
Page 72 - Then hate me when thou wilt ; if ever, now ; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune...