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Libros Libros 1 a 10 de 165 sobre Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious...
" Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew... "
Blackwood's Magazine - Página 722
1884
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Poems on Several Occasions: By Shakespeare

William Shakespeare - 1760 - 250 páginas
...wherein they grew?' Was it his fpirit, by fpirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that ftruck mr, dead ? No, neither he nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verfe aftoniihed. He nor that affable familiar gholl, Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As...
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Poems Written by Mr. William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare - 1775 - 250 páginas
...wherein they grew ? Was it his fpirit, by fpirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that ftruck me dead ? No, neither he nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verfe aftonifhed. He nor that affable familiar ghoft, Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As...
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The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare: In Ten Volumes ..., Volumen 10

William Shakespeare - 1790
...wherein they grew * ? Was it his fpirit, by fpirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that ftruck me dead ? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verfe allonifhed. He, nor that affable familiar ghoft, Which nightly gulls him with intelligence *;,...
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The poems of William Shakspeare, with mr. Capell's History of the origin of ...

William Shakespeare - 1798 - 233 páginas
...wherein they grew ? Was it his fpirit, by fpirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that ftruck me dead ? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verfe aftonifhed. He, nor that affable familiar ghoft Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As...
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Poems, with illustrative remarks [ed. by W.C. Oulton]. To which is prefixed ...

William Shakespeare - 1804
...verse. Bound for the prize of (all-too-precious) you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain rehearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew ? Was...night Giving him aid, my verse astonished. He nor that%ffable familiar ghost, Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As victors, of my silence cannot...
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The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper: Including ..., Volumen 5

Alexander Chalmers - 1810
...LXXXVI. WAS it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making...to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead ? Xo, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonished. He, nor that affable...
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The Works of William Shakespeare, Volumen 9

William Shakespeare - 1812
...verse, Bound for the prize of (all-too-precious) you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain rehearse," Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew ! Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write [ol Read fil'd ie polished. ANON. [i] For Rehearse, read inherse. STEEVENS. Above a mortal pitch that...
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Biographia Literaria; Or, Biographical Sketches of My Literary ..., Volumen 1

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1817 - 309 páginas
...sonnet. " Was it the proud full sail of his great verse Bound for the praise of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb, the womb wherein they grew 1 Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch that struck me dead? No, neither...
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The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

William Shakespeare - 1826 - 830 páginas
...verse, Round for the prize of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inherse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was...spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that strcuk me dead? No, neither he, uor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonished. He,...
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The Gentleman's Magazine, and Historical Chronicle, for ..., Volumen 102,Parte 2

Edward Cave, John Nichols - 1832
...preserves his temper when describing the combination against him : " Was it hit spirit, by tpiriti taught to write Above a mortal pitch,* that struck...he, nor his compeers, by night Giving him aid, my verge astonished. He, nor that affable familiar ghoit, Which nightly pills him with intelligence, As...
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