A thousand and one gems of English poetry, selected and arranged by C. MackayCharles Mackay 1897 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 80
Page 2
... hath hate , and climbing tickleness ; + Preise hath envie , and weal is blent o'er all . Savor no more than thee behoven shall , Rede ¶ well thy self that other folk can'st rede , And Truth thee shalt deliver - ' tis no drede ...
... hath hate , and climbing tickleness ; + Preise hath envie , and weal is blent o'er all . Savor no more than thee behoven shall , Rede ¶ well thy self that other folk can'st rede , And Truth thee shalt deliver - ' tis no drede ...
Page 3
... hath stayed my life apart , Which doth perswade such words unto my sored mynde , Maintaine thy selfe , Ó wofull wight , some better luck to find . For though thou be deprived from thy desired sight Who can thee tell , if thy returne ...
... hath stayed my life apart , Which doth perswade such words unto my sored mynde , Maintaine thy selfe , Ó wofull wight , some better luck to find . For though thou be deprived from thy desired sight Who can thee tell , if thy returne ...
Page 5
... hath such excesse . Such is the sort of hoape , the less for more desyre , And yet I trust e're that I dye , to see that I require . The resting - place of love , where virtue dwells and growes , There I desire my weary life sometime ...
... hath such excesse . Such is the sort of hoape , the less for more desyre , And yet I trust e're that I dye , to see that I require . The resting - place of love , where virtue dwells and growes , There I desire my weary life sometime ...
Page 6
... hath wrought , And shipped me into the land , From whence I fyrst was brought . And ye that byde behinde , Have ye none other trust As ye of clay were cast by kynd , So shall ye waste to dust . [ ANONYMOUS . 1521. ] THE NUT - BROWN MAID ...
... hath wrought , And shipped me into the land , From whence I fyrst was brought . And ye that byde behinde , Have ye none other trust As ye of clay were cast by kynd , So shall ye waste to dust . [ ANONYMOUS . 1521. ] THE NUT - BROWN MAID ...
Page 12
... hath mourn'd like night , And despairs day , but for thy volumes light . JEALOUSY . WRETCHED and foolish Jealousy , How cam'st thou thus to enter me ? I ne'er was of thy kind : Nor have I yet the narrow mind To vent that poor desire ...
... hath mourn'd like night , And despairs day , but for thy volumes light . JEALOUSY . WRETCHED and foolish Jealousy , How cam'st thou thus to enter me ? I ne'er was of thy kind : Nor have I yet the narrow mind To vent that poor desire ...
Common terms and phrases
ANTISTROPHE art thou Ave Maria beauty beneath bless blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright brow busk charms cheek clouds Clusium cold Cuckoo dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fear flowers frae gaze gentle glory grave green grief hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven hill hope hour king Lars Porsena light lips live lonely look Lord lyre maid moon morn mourn muse ne'er never night Nut-brown Maid nymph o'er pale pride rapture rill rose round Rule Britannia Samian wine shade shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stream sweet tears tell tempest thee thine thou art thought tree Twas vale voice wave weary ween weep wild winds wings Yarrow young youth
Popular passages
Page 409 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Page 194 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn...
Page 546 - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image.
Page 434 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own ! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Page 62 - This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden demi-paradise ; This fortress, built by nature for herself, Against infection, and the hand of war; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Page 472 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Page 336 - I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they ; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet ; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ;...
Page 574 - We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel. Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes,...
Page 442 - Waking or asleep Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream — Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Page 38 - tis his will: Let but the commons hear this testament, , (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins...