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appeared arms bear beauty became birds body born called cause Court crown death died doth earth English eyes face fair fall fear fire flowers force gave give gold grace hand hast hath head heart heaven heavenly Henry hope Italy James John kind king lady land language learned leaves light live look Lord lost mind nature never night noble once pass poem poet poetry praise prince Queen rest rich Richard rise rose Scotland seems seen sent shine side sight sing sleep song soon soul spirit stand strange sweet tell thee things thou thought took tree true unto verse Wallace wood write wrote
Pàgina 275 - Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day ; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale, when May is past ; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note. Ask me no more where those stars 'light That downwards fall in dead of night ; For in your eyes they sit, and there Fixed become, as in their sphere. Ask me no more if east or west The phcenix builds her spicy nest ; For unto...
Pàgina 115 - Townsfolk my strength ; a daintier judge applies His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise ; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; Others, because of both sides I do take My blood from them, who did excel in this, Think Nature me a man of arms did make. How far they shot awry ! the true cause is, STELLA looked on, and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
Pàgina 259 - Soul of the age! The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
Pàgina 113 - ... comfort; here a shepherd's boy piping, as though he should never be old ; there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work and her hands kept time to her voice-music.
Pàgina 277 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Pàgina 278 - Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on which they did bring, It was too wide a peck : And to say truth, for out it must, ' It look'd like the great collar, just, About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they fear'd the light : But oh ! she dances such a way — No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Pàgina 209 - Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then ? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Pàgina 114 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies ; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case ; I read it in thy looks ; thy languisht grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries...
Pàgina 122 - Times go by turns, and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; Her tides have equal times to come and go, Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; No joy so great but runneth to an end, No hap so hard but may in fine amend.