A Midsummer-night's Dream

Bìa trước
University Press, 1924 - 176 trang
An enchanted wood is the setting for a hilarious night of confusion when four young lovers try to resolve their passions despite some meddling from the mischievous forest spirits.
 

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Trang 60 - The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of Imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; That is, the madman. The lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as Imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Trang 7 - Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion.
Trang 140 - The best in this kind are but shadows ; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
Trang 17 - Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound : And thorough this distemperature we see The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems...
Trang 19 - At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts...
Trang 23 - Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby ; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby : Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh ; So, good night, with lullaby.
Trang 7 - Ah me! for aught that ever I could read. Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth: But, either it was different in blood; Her.
Trang 72 - Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide...
Trang xix - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
Trang xx - Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year, For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge, For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. The lark, that tirra-lirra chants, With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay.