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Milton's L'allegro, Il Penseroso, Arcades, Lycidas, Sonnets Etc
Vista de fragmentos - 1890
adjective adverb allusion appear applied bring called Church classical clause cognate common comp Comus connection construction darkness daughter death denotes early ears Edited Elizabethan English expressed eyes fact flowers followed frequent give Greek hast head hear heaven hence implies infinitive introduced Italy King L'Alleg L'Allegro lady language Latin Lawes light literally live look Lost Lycidas meaning Melancholy Milton mind morning Muse nature never night noun object occurs originally participle passage past Pens Penseroso person phrase pleasures poem poet poetry present probably pronoun radically refers regarded represented Roman sacred seen sense Shakespeare shows sing sometimes song sonnet sound speaks spirit star story thee thou thought turn verb verse winds wood word write written
Página 85 - 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.
Página 7 - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings ; There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Página 9 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Página 6 - FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race ; Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace ; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain, And merely mortal dross ; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain.
Página 15 - And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Página xii - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
Página 34 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman.
Página 9 - And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Página 22 - What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain? And questioned every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked promontory : They knew not of his story, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed, The air was calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters played.