The Works of George Herbert: PoetryW. Pickering, 1846 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 25
Page viii
... fires burning upon the altar of so pure a heart , as fhall free it from the anxieties of the world , and keep it fixed upon things that are above . Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr. Donne there was a long and dear friendship , made up ...
... fires burning upon the altar of so pure a heart , as fhall free it from the anxieties of the world , and keep it fixed upon things that are above . Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr. Donne there was a long and dear friendship , made up ...
Page xviii
... fire , And what you cannot comprehend , admire . Go , you dark poems , poems , dark even as the skies , Make the scales fall from our dark dazzling eyes . Mirrors were made to mend , not mar our fight , Glowworms to glitter in the most ...
... fire , And what you cannot comprehend , admire . Go , you dark poems , poems , dark even as the skies , Make the scales fall from our dark dazzling eyes . Mirrors were made to mend , not mar our fight , Glowworms to glitter in the most ...
Page xxi
... fire from your eyes , To kindle this his facrifice . When your Hands untie these strings , Think you have an Angel by th ' wings . One that gladly will bee nigh , To wait upon each morning sigh . To flutter in the balmy aire Of your ...
... fire from your eyes , To kindle this his facrifice . When your Hands untie these strings , Think you have an Angel by th ' wings . One that gladly will bee nigh , To wait upon each morning sigh . To flutter in the balmy aire Of your ...
Page xxii
George Herbert. The Veftal fire that's in your breaft , will burn Up all his droffe , and make it Incense turne ; And then your smile a fecond life will give , Hee'l fear no death , if you but bid him live . Pardon this bold ambition ...
George Herbert. The Veftal fire that's in your breaft , will burn Up all his droffe , and make it Incense turne ; And then your smile a fecond life will give , Hee'l fear no death , if you but bid him live . Pardon this bold ambition ...
Page 13
... fire : Mark all his wanderings , and enjoy his frets ; As cunning fencers fuffer heat to tire . Truth dwells not in the clouds : the bow that's there Doth often aim at , never hit the sphere . Mark what another fays : for many are Full ...
... fire : Mark all his wanderings , and enjoy his frets ; As cunning fencers fuffer heat to tire . Truth dwells not in the clouds : the bow that's there Doth often aim at , never hit the sphere . Mark what another fays : for many are Full ...
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.