The works of the English poets. With prefaces, biographical and critical, by S. Johnson, כרך 33

כריכה קדמית

מתוך הספר

מה אומרים אנשים - כתיבת ביקורת

לא מצאנו ביקורות במקומות הרגילים

עמודים נבחרים

מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל

מונחים וביטויים נפוצים

קטעים בולטים

עמוד 238 - I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards: I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kind of fruits: I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees...
עמוד 238 - I said in mine heart, Go to now, I will prove thee with mirth, therefore enjoy pleasure: and, behold, this also is vanity.
עמוד 274 - Now when Solomon had made an end of praying, the fire came down from heaven, and consumed the burnt offering and the sacrifices ; and the glory of the Lord filled the house.
עמוד 173 - To master John the English maid A hornbook gives of gingerbread; And, that the child may learn the better, As he can name, he eats the letter.
עמוד 210 - And he spake of trees, from the cedar-tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall : he spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes.
עמוד 210 - He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.
עמוד 29 - I pray you, tell anone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.
עמוד 136 - So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve, (Its feeble eye intent on things above) High as we may, we lift our reason up, By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope: Yet are we able only to survey Dawnings of beams, and promises of day.
עמוד 60 - Vows made to last, or promises to bind. By nature prompted, and for empire made, Alike by strength or cunning we invade : When arm'd with rage we march...
עמוד 50 - What is our bliss that changeth with the moon ; And day of life, that darkens ere 'tis noon ? What is true passion, if unblest it dies ? And where is Emma's joy if Henry flies ? If love, alas ! be pain, the pain I bear No thought can figure, and no tongue declare. Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor...

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