Sabrinae corolla in hortulis Regiae scholae salopiensis contexuerunt tres viri floribus legendis ...Benjamin Hall Kennedy, James Riddell, George William Clark |
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Page xxvii
... weep . The Broken Heart . The Wine of Life The Sleep of Death Rest and be thankful The Beautiful is Hard The Isles of Greece All is not gold that glitters The Happy Spirit . . The Islander at Tempe The Mariner . . Song of Proserpine ...
... weep . The Broken Heart . The Wine of Life The Sleep of Death Rest and be thankful The Beautiful is Hard The Isles of Greece All is not gold that glitters The Happy Spirit . . The Islander at Tempe The Mariner . . Song of Proserpine ...
Page 40
... weeping after this untimely bier . SHAKESPEARE . The Parasitic Theory . IG fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ' em ; little fleas have lesser fleas , and so ad infinitum . ' A. Tuum maculavi crimine nomen . Ε . Ω ' ναξ 40 ...
... weeping after this untimely bier . SHAKESPEARE . The Parasitic Theory . IG fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ' em ; little fleas have lesser fleas , and so ad infinitum . ' A. Tuum maculavi crimine nomen . Ε . Ω ' ναξ 40 ...
Page 52
... weep in love of those that lie asleep ! for Cupid is a merry god , and forceth none to kiss the rod . My songs they be of Cynthia's praise , I wear her rings on holidays , in every tree I write her name , and every day I read the same ...
... weep in love of those that lie asleep ! for Cupid is a merry god , and forceth none to kiss the rod . My songs they be of Cynthia's praise , I wear her rings on holidays , in every tree I write her name , and every day I read the same ...
Page 90
... weep we a child ? not e'en the gods can save their glorious offspring from the hated grave . BLAND ( from ANTIPATER ) . Inania Regna . ROTINUS horrisono stridentes cardine portae tartareae panduntur 90 SABRINAE COROLLA .
... weep we a child ? not e'en the gods can save their glorious offspring from the hated grave . BLAND ( from ANTIPATER ) . Inania Regna . ROTINUS horrisono stridentes cardine portae tartareae panduntur 90 SABRINAE COROLLA .
Page 98
... weep no more for Lycidas , your sorrow , is not dead , sunk tho ' he be beneath the watery floor : so sinks the day - star in the ocean - bed , and yet anon repairs his drooping head and tricks his beams and with new - spangled ore ...
... weep no more for Lycidas , your sorrow , is not dead , sunk tho ' he be beneath the watery floor : so sinks the day - star in the ocean - bed , and yet anon repairs his drooping head and tricks his beams and with new - spangled ore ...
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Sabrinae Corolla in Hortulis Regiae Scholae Salopiensis: Contexuerunt Tres ... Benjamin H. Kennedy,James Riddell No preview available - 2010 |
Common terms and phrases
aethere amor AMQUE aquae atque auras caeli caput decus earth erat erit eyes FELICIA HEMANS flowers haec HARTLEY COLERIDGE hath haud heart heaven hinc igne illa illis inque instar ipsa ipse iubar John's Coll laeta leniter LORD BYRON LORD TENNYSON lumina manus mihi Milton modo Nannia neque nobis nunc o'er oculis omne omnia pectore puella quae quaeque quam quid quis quod saepe semper Shakespeare sibi sine sleep song sopor soul sunt suspiria sweet tamen terra thee thine thou tibi Trinity Coll ultro umbra umbris unda vita Zephyrus ἀλλ ἂν γὰρ γε δὲ εἰ εἰς ἐκ ἐν ἐς ἦν καὶ μὲν μὴ μοι νῦν οὐ οὐδ οὐκ οὖν πρὸς τὰ τε τὴν τῆς τί τὸ τοῖς τὸν τοῦ τῷ τῶν ὧδ ὡς
Popular passages
Page 197 - I care not, Fortune, what you me deny : You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face ; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 264 - Milton! thou should'st 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 92 - The ascending pile Stood fixed her stately highth; and straight the doors, Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide Within, her ample spaces o'er the smooth And level pavement: from the arched roof, Pendent by subtle magic, many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky.
Page 456 - BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid; Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
Page 460 - Vouchsafe, O Lord : to keep us this day without sin. O Lord, have mercy upon us : have mercy upon us. O Lord, let thy mercy lighten upon us : as our trust is in thee. O Lord, in thee have I trusted : let me never be confounded.
Page 197 - THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown ; Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send ; He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, He gained from Heaven ('t was all he wished) a friend.
Page 116 - He sought the storms ; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Page 110 - I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord ! [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you : — Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit...
Page 104 - Glamis thou art, and Cawdor ; and shalt be What thou art promised : yet do I fear thy nature ; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it : what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win : thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries ' Thus thou must do, if thou have it ; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest...
Page 76 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.