On the Structure of English VerseLibrairie Européenne de Baudry, 1884 - 162 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
accented syllable Æneid áge áir alexandrine áll alliterative verse AMETHUS amphibrach amphimacer anapæstic verses bird blank verse BYRON cæsura Cóme couplet COWPER dactylic verse doth English poetry English poets English verse eyes Farewell five feet flowers following examples following passage foot composed four feet four-line stanza fourth gréen hath heart heaven heroic couplets heroic measure hexameters Hiawatha iambic verses iambuses irregular Keats kings LONGFELLOW Lord LORD LYTTON mán melody metre MILTON mixed morning night nów o'er óft pæon passage is taken pause Petrarch Piers the Ploughman poetry pyrrhic rare rhyme second foot SHAKESPEARE SHELLEY sigh Sirmio song sonnet soul sound specimen SPENSER spondee stanza stanza of iambic sweet syllable followed tercet thee third foot third line thou three feet tribrach Trochaic verses trochee unto verses composed verses of five verses of four verses of seven verses of three vowel wander wind words written youth
Popular passages
Page 97 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 118 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: — Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Page 137 - Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung ; Silence was pleased ; now...
Page 97 - Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more ; I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew: Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn ; Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save.
Page 18 - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
Page 91 - Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.
Page 133 - I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman, which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud,— What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
Page 143 - WHAT slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours, Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave, Pyrrha ? for whom bind'st thou In wreaths thy golden hair, Plain in thy neatness ? O, how oft s.hall he On faith and changed gods complain, and seas Rough with black winds, and storms Unwonted shall admire ! . Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold, Who always vacant, always amiable Hopes thee, of flattering gales Unmindful. Hapless they To whom thou untried seem'st fair ! Me, in my vow'd Picture, the sacred...
Page 132 - Gloster stumbled, and, in falling, Struck me (that thought to stay him) overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears, What sights of ugly death within mine eyes...
Page 119 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!