An English Anthology of Prose and Poetry, Shewing the Main Stream of English Literature Through Six Centuries.(14th Century-19th Century)
J.M. Dent & Sons Limited, 1922 - 1011 pages
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arms beauty behold breath CANTERBURY TALES Clerk Saunders cried dark dead dear death delight doth dream Duke Duke of Hereford Duke of Norfolk earth enemies eyes face fair father fear fire flowers friends give glory gone hair hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven holy honour hope Isaake king King Arthur labour lady Lady of Shalott land light live look Lord mind Miss Brooke moon morning nature never night noble NUT-BROWN MAID o'er pain pass passion pleasure poet praise pray rest round Samian wine ship sight sing Sir Bedivere Sir Lucan Sir Patrick Spens sleep song soul speak spirit stars sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Timor Mortis conturbat trees true unto voice wind woods words youth
Page 474 - Or in the natal, or the mortal hour. All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee ; All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see ; All Discord, Harmony not understood ; All partial Evil, universal Good : And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite, One truth is clear, WHATEVER is, is RIGHT.
Page 623 - twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 605 - Thou whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy soul's immensity; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage; thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, — Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness" of the grave; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a master o'er a slave, A presence which is not to be put by; Thou...
Page 288 - The sun shall be no more thy light by day ; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee : but the LORD shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.
Page 706 - 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 Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Page 630 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech ; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
Page 213 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of...
Page 607 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Page 606 - O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest — Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: Not for these I raise The song of thanks and...