The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three CenturiesD. Appleton & Company, 1849 - 552 pages |
Contents
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Common terms and phrases
adore ANDREW MARVELL angels arched magazines beams beauty behold beneath blast blessed blest bliss born breast breath bright clouds crown dark death delight divine dost doth dread dust dwell earth EDMUND WALLER eternal eyes fair fear fire flame flowers FRANCIS QUARLES GILES FLETCHER glorious glory God's grace grave grief hand happy hast hath heart heaven heavenly hell holy hope hour HYMN immortal ISAAC WATTS King light live Lord mercy mind morning mortal ne'er night o'er pain peace PHINEAS FLETCHER pleasure poems poet poor praise prayer PSALM rest rise ROBERT HERRICK round sacred shade shine sigh sight sing SIR EDWARD SHERBURNE skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars streams sweet tears thee thine things THOMAS FLATMAN THOMAS HEYWOOD THOMAS PARNELL Thou art thought throne unto voice waves wind wings
Popular passages
Page 359 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his
Page 357 - But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single Field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone: The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Page 275 - When even at last the solemn hour shall come, And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, Will rising wonders sing. I cannot go Where universal love not smiles around, Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns; From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression.
Page 172 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around ; The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Page 378 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.
Page 357 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
Page 173 - Nature that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union.
Page 170 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater ; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.
Page 357 - Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make ; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel - I feel it all.
Page 209 - THE COLLAR I STRUCK the board, and cried, no more; I will abroad. What? shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free ; free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large as store. , Shall I be still in suit? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore What I have lost with cordial fruit? Sure there was wine, Before my sighs did dry it : there was corn, Before my tears did drown it. Is the year only lost to me? Have I no bays to crown it ? No flowers, no garlands gay?
Bibliographic information
| Title | The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three Centuries |
| Author | Rufus Wilmot Griswold |
| Editor | Rufus Wilmot Griswold |
| Publisher | D. Appleton & Company, 1849 |
| Original from | the University of Michigan |
| Digitized | 19 Feb 2008 |
| Length | 552 pages |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |