The English Poets; Ben Jonson to Dryden Volume 2

The English Poets; Ben Jonson to Dryden Volume 2

By (author) 

List price: US$24.11

Currently unavailable

Add to wishlist

AbeBooks may have this title (opens in new window).

Try AbeBooks

Description

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1883 edition. Excerpt: ...at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the poets militant below! Opposed by our old enemy, adverse chance, Attacked by envy, and by ignorance, Enchain'd by beauty, tortured by desires, Expos'd by tyrant-love to savage beasts and fires. Thou from low earth in nobler flames didst rise, And like Elijah, mount alive the skies. Elisha-lik'e (but with a wish much less, More fit thy greatness, and my littleness) Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove So humble to esteem, so good to love) Not that thy spirit might on me doubled be, I ask but half thy mighty spirit for me; And when my muse soars with so strong a wing, 'Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing. 1 Crashaw became a Roman Catholic, and died a canon of Loretto, 1650. 3 _Anacreontiques.' Drinking. The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again, The plants suck in the earth, and are With constant drinking fresh and fair. The sea itself, which one would think Should have but little need of drink, Drinks ten thousand rivers up, So fill'd that they oerflow the cup. The busy sun (and one would guess By its drunken fiery face no less) Drinks up the sea, and when he's done, The moon and stars drink up the sun. They drink and dance by their own light, They drink and revel all the night. Nothing in nature's sober found, But an eternal health goes round. Fill up the bowl then, fill it high, Fill all the glasses there, for why Should every creature drink but I, Why, man of morals, tell me why? The Swallow. Foolish prater, what dost thou So early at my window do With thy tuneless serenade? Well't had been had Tereus made Thee as dumb as Philomel; There his knife had done but well. In thy undiscovered nest, ...show more

Product details

  • Paperback | 154 pages
  • 189 x 246 x 8mm | 286g
  • Rarebooksclub.com
  • Miami Fl, United States
  • English
  • black & white illustrations
  • 1236654404
  • 9781236654403