The Works of George Herbert: PoetryW. Pickering, 1846 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 61
Page xxiii
... should we now presume to in- terest any mortal man in the patronage of it ? Much less think we it meet to seek the recommendation of the Muses , for that which himself was confident to have been inspired by a diviner breath than flows ...
... should we now presume to in- terest any mortal man in the patronage of it ? Much less think we it meet to seek the recommendation of the Muses , for that which himself was confident to have been inspired by a diviner breath than flows ...
Page 6
... should wear a mask . Look to thy mouth : diseases enter there . Thou hast two sconces , if thy ftomach call ; Carve , or difcourfe ; do not a famine fear . Who carves , is kind to two ; who talks , to all . Look on meat , think it dirt ...
... should wear a mask . Look to thy mouth : diseases enter there . Thou hast two sconces , if thy ftomach call ; Carve , or difcourfe ; do not a famine fear . Who carves , is kind to two ; who talks , to all . Look on meat , think it dirt ...
Page 11
... should be Not of rich arras , but mean tapestry . Thy friend put in thy bofom : wear his eyes Still in thy heart , that he may fee what's there . If cause require , thou art his facrifice ; Thy drops of blood must pay down all his fear ...
... should be Not of rich arras , but mean tapestry . Thy friend put in thy bofom : wear his eyes Still in thy heart , that he may fee what's there . If cause require , thou art his facrifice ; Thy drops of blood must pay down all his fear ...
Page 13
George Herbert. More , than his fickneffes or poverty ? In love I should : but anger is not love , Nor wisdom neither ; therefore gently move . Calmness is great advantage : he that lets Another chafe , may warm him at his fire : Mark ...
George Herbert. More , than his fickneffes or poverty ? In love I should : but anger is not love , Nor wisdom neither ; therefore gently move . Calmness is great advantage : he that lets Another chafe , may warm him at his fire : Mark ...
Page 25
... should be kept : Was ever grief like mine ? The foldiers led me to the common hall ; There they deride me , they abuse me all : Yet for twelve heavenly legions I could call : Was ever grief like mine ? Then with a scarlet robe they me ...
... should be kept : Was ever grief like mine ? The foldiers led me to the common hall ; There they deride me , they abuse me all : Yet for twelve heavenly legions I could call : Was ever grief like mine ? Then with a scarlet robe they me ...
Contents
1 | |
20 | |
22 | |
29 | |
38 | |
39 | |
67 | |
68 | |
159 | |
212 | |
218 | |
219 | |
230 | |
276 | |
289 | |
298 | |
74 | |
76 | |
81 | |
82 | |
96 | |
98 | |
102 | |
125 | |
127 | |
136 | |
144 | |
305 | |
307 | |
318 | |
324 | |
326 | |
339 | |
342 | |
350 | |
360 | |
365 | |
379 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
aftra againſt alſo anſwer atque Becauſe beſt bleffed bliſs blood breaſt Cathari Christopher Harvey Church cloſe croſs Cùm dear death decus defire didſt doth duft e'en earth eyes faid fame fear ferve fhall fhow thyself fide figh fince fing firſt fleſh fome forrow foul ftill fuch fure fweet glaſs glory grace grief hæc hand hath heart heaven Herbert himſelf holy houſe laſt leaſt lefs loft Lord meaſure mihi moſt mufic muſt nunc paſs pleaſe pleaſure pofy poor preſent quæ Quin raiſe reft reſt reſtore roſe ſay ſee ſeek ſerve ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhine ſhould ſhow ſky ſpeak ſphere ſpirit ſtand ſtars ſtate ſtay ſtill ſtone ſtore ſtory ſtraight ſtrange ſtrength ſweet Synagogue taſte tears thee theſe thine things thoſe thou art thou didst thou doft thy praiſe tibi treaſure unto uſe verſe whofe whoſe wind
Popular passages
Page 203 - I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace.
Page 215 - I, the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear ! I cannot look on thee.' Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, 'Who made the eyes but I ?' 'Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.
Page 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 ? said he : I heard in Music you had skill...
Page 228 - My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, Wherewith whole shoals of Martyrs once did burn, Besides their other flames ? Doth Poetry Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ? Why are not Sonnets made of thee ? and lays Upon thine altar burnt ? Cannot thy love Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise As well as any she ? Cannot thy Dove Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight...
Page 98 - LIFE. I MADE a posy, while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band.
Page 172 - Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away; take heed: I will abroad. Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load.
Page 171 - I STRUCK the board and cried, " No more ! I will abroad. What, shall I ever sigh and pine ? My lines and life are free ; free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large as store. Shall I be still in suit ? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore What I have lost with cordial fruit ? Sure there was wine Before my sighs did dry it : there was corn Before my tears did drown it. Is the year only lost to me ? Have I no...
Page 82 - A better lodging, than a rack, or grave. THE shepherds sing ; and shall I silent be ? My God, no hymn for thee ? My soul's a shepherd too ; a flock it feeds Of thoughts, and words, and deeds. The pasture is thy word ; the streams, thy grace Enriching all the place. Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers Out-sing the daylight hours.
Page 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. And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.
Page 1 - THOU, whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance 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.