Τι λένε οι χρήστες - Σύνταξη κριτικής
Δεν εντοπίσαμε κριτικές στις συνήθεις τοποθεσίες.
Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων
Σελίδα 30 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Σελίδα 28 - O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Σελίδα 34 - Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, }Never to hope again.
Σελίδα 30 - With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Σελίδα 28 - And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
Σελίδα 36 - The Dying Christian to his Soul: Ode Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying. Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life. Hark! they whisper; Angels say. Sister spirit, come away.
Σελίδα 60 - How should I love the pretty creatures, While round my knees they fondly clung ; To see them look their mother's features, To hear them lisp their mother's tongue. And when with envy, time transported, Shall think to rob us of our joys, You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go wooing in my boys.
Σελίδα 64 - Oppression forced me from my cot, My cattle died, and blighted was my corn.