The Works of George Herbert in Prose and Verse, المجلد 2W. Pickering, 1853 |
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طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
aftra againſt alſo anſwer Becauſe beſt bleffed blood breaſt Church cloſe croſs dear death doth duft e'en earth eyes fame fear ferve fhall fhow thyself fide figh filks fince fing firſt fleſh flowers fome forrow foul ftill fuch fure fweet glory grace grief hæc hand hath heart heaven himſelf holy houſe itſelf laſt leaſt lefs leſs loft Lord meaſure mihi moft moſt mufic muſt myſelf paſs pleaſe pleaſure pofy poor preſent quæ raiſe reft reſt reſtore ſay ſee ſeek ſenſe ſerve ſet ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhine ſhould ſhow ſky ſmall ſpeak ſphere ſpirit ſpring ſtanding ſtars ſtate ſtay ſtill ſtone ſtore ſtory ſtraight ſtrange ſtrength ſuch ſweet taſte tears thee themſelves theſe thine things thofe thoſe thou art thou didst thou doft thy love thy praiſe tibi treaſure truſt unto uſe verſe Wherefore whofe whoſe wind
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 91 - ... Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes.
الصفحة 75 - Sundays the pillars are On which heaven's palace arched lies: The other days fill up the spare And hollow room with vanities. They are the fruitful beds and borders In God's rich garden : that is bare, Which parts their ranks and orders.
الصفحة 118 - Sir, said she, Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those? But Thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. Then money came, and chinking still, What tune is this, poor man?
الصفحة 72 - Who, when he is to treat With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, Allows for that, and keeps his constant way : Whom others' faults do not defeat ; But though men fail him, yet his part doth play. Whom nothing can procure, When the wide world runs bias, from his will To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill. This is the marksman safe and sure, Who still is right, and prays to be so still.
الصفحة 172 - All wasted ? Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not; forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands, Which...
الصفحة 49 - IMMORTAL Love, author of this great frame, Sprung from that beauty which can never fade ; How hath man parcel'd out thy glorious name, And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made...
الصفحة 176 - COME, my Way, my Truth, my Life : Such a Way, as gives us breath : Such a Truth, as ends all strife : Such a Life, as killeth death. Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength Such a Light, as shows a feast : Such a Feast, as mends in length : Such a Strength, as makes his guest. Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart : Such a Joy, as none can move : Such a Love, as none can part : Such a Heart...
الصفحة 75 - Whom, if we were not very dull, We could not choose but look on still, Since there is no place so alone, The which he doth not fill.
الصفحة 179 - When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, Let us (said He) pour on him all we can. Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span.
الصفحة xxvii - Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure; Hearken unto a verser, who may chance Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure. A verse may find him who a sermon flies, And turn delight into a sacrifice.