Biographical and Critical StudiesReeves and Turner and B. Dobell, 1896 - 483 strani |
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Zadetki 1–5 od 5
Stran 109
... Johnson , at one Master John Stuart's house . I thanke him for his great kindnesse towards me for at my taking leave of him , he gave me a piece of gold of two - and - twenty shillings to drink his health in England ; and withall willed ...
... Johnson , at one Master John Stuart's house . I thanke him for his great kindnesse towards me for at my taking leave of him , he gave me a piece of gold of two - and - twenty shillings to drink his health in England ; and withall willed ...
Stran 115
... - ' Here lyes BENJAMIN JOHNSON dead , And hath no more wit than [ a ] goose in his head : That as he was wont , so doth he still , Live by his wit , and evermore will . ' Ane other : - ' Here lyes honest Ben , BEN JONSON 115.
... - ' Here lyes BENJAMIN JOHNSON dead , And hath no more wit than [ a ] goose in his head : That as he was wont , so doth he still , Live by his wit , and evermore will . ' Ane other : - ' Here lyes honest Ben , BEN JONSON 115.
Stran 130
... Johnson the Cittyes Chronologer , Wherupon it is ordered by this Court that his yearely pencion of one hundred nobles out of the Chamber of London shall be continued and that Mr. Chamberlen shall satisfie and pay unto him his arrerages ...
... Johnson the Cittyes Chronologer , Wherupon it is ordered by this Court that his yearely pencion of one hundred nobles out of the Chamber of London shall be continued and that Mr. Chamberlen shall satisfie and pay unto him his arrerages ...
Stran 142
... " the following record , by Sir Edward Walker , Garter : " Thursday , 17 August . Died at Westminster , Mr. Benjamin Johnson , the most famous accurate , and learned poet of our age , especially 142 BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES.
... " the following record , by Sir Edward Walker , Garter : " Thursday , 17 August . Died at Westminster , Mr. Benjamin Johnson , the most famous accurate , and learned poet of our age , especially 142 BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES.
Stran 392
... Johnson in close and peremptory argument ; fertile and copious , he might have rivalled Burke in amplitude of declamation . " Mr. Skelton , although , as we have seen , he , too , has been mightily influenced by the same personal ascen ...
... Johnson in close and peremptory argument ; fertile and copious , he might have rivalled Burke in amplitude of declamation . " Mr. Skelton , although , as we have seen , he , too , has been mightily influenced by the same personal ascen ...
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admirable afterwards appears Bartholomew Fair beautiful Bellay Ben Jonson Blake Blake's Browning Burns called Chinon Church Clément Marot comedy Comte d'Harcourt Cynthia's Revels death Divine doth drink Drugger Drummond edition English Epigram Face father fire French genius George Chapman Gifford give hath heart heaven hell Hogg honour human humour inspiration Jonson judgment Kastril king lady letter light living Lord Marguerite of Navarre master mind Muse nature never night noble notes Pantagruel passage piece pipe poems poet poetry poor quoted Rabelais reader remarked Robert Browning Saint-Amant says scarcely Scott Sejanus Shakespeare Shelley Shelley's Shepherd Silent Woman smoke snuff song Sordello soul speak spirit subtle Swedenborg sweet Swinburne thee things thou thought tion tobacco truth verse volume Wilkinson William Blake Wilson wine words writing written wrote young
Priljubljeni odlomki
Stran 287 - That light whose smile kindles the universe, That beauty in which all things work and move, That benediction which the eclipsing curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which, through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Stran 153 - Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. Triumph, my Britain ! thou hast one to show, To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe, He was not of an age, but for all time...
Stran 158 - Ah Ben! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ; Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad ? And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.
Stran 141 - My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place, or honours: but I have and do reverence him, for the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed, that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want.
Stran 147 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Stran 457 - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Stran 287 - ... bird; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move...
Stran 281 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Stran 137 - Weep with me, all you that read This little story; And know, for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry. Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As heaven and nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature.
Stran 152 - To draw no envy, SHAKESPEARE, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; While I confess thy writings to be such, As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much.