Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, Volum 1W. Bulmer and Company, 1803 - 458 pàgines |
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Pàgina 23
... firing a broadside . The following few lines , extracted from the prologue , will shew that Sir David Lindsay's talents were by no means ill suited to descriptive poetry . 2 I met dame Flora in dule weed disagysit ; [ 23 ]
... firing a broadside . The following few lines , extracted from the prologue , will shew that Sir David Lindsay's talents were by no means ill suited to descriptive poetry . 2 I met dame Flora in dule weed disagysit ; [ 23 ]
Pàgina 24
... dame Flora in dule weed disagysit ; ( Which , into May , was dulce and delectable , ) With stalwart3 storms her sweetness was surprisit ; Her heavenly hues were turnit into sable , Which , onewhile , were to lovers amiáble : Fled from ...
... dame Flora in dule weed disagysit ; ( Which , into May , was dulce and delectable , ) With stalwart3 storms her sweetness was surprisit ; Her heavenly hues were turnit into sable , Which , onewhile , were to lovers amiáble : Fled from ...
Pàgina 57
... dame ; To bait 3 her eyes which kept the leads above . The gravel ground , with sleeves tied on the helm , 5 On foaming horse , with swords , and friendly hearts , With cheer as though one should another whelm : Where we have fought ...
... dame ; To bait 3 her eyes which kept the leads above . The gravel ground , with sleeves tied on the helm , 5 On foaming horse , with swords , and friendly hearts , With cheer as though one should another whelm : Where we have fought ...
Pàgina 150
... dame Nature did man frame : Death is a thing most perfect sure : We ought not Nature's works to blame ; She made no thing still to endure . That law she made when we were born , That hence we should return again : To render right we ...
... dame Nature did man frame : Death is a thing most perfect sure : We ought not Nature's works to blame ; She made no thing still to endure . That law she made when we were born , That hence we should return again : To render right we ...
Pàgina 209
... . Thou far dost take thy mark amiss , If thou think faith in them to find ; The weather - cock more constant is , Which turns about with every wind . VOL , II . P I know some pepper - nosed dame Will term me HUMFREY GIFFORD . 209.
... . Thou far dost take thy mark amiss , If thou think faith in them to find ; The weather - cock more constant is , Which turns about with every wind . VOL , II . P I know some pepper - nosed dame Will term me HUMFREY GIFFORD . 209.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an ..., Volum 1 George Ellis Visualització completa - 1801 |
Specimens of the Early English Poets: To Which Is Prefixed, an Historical ... George Ellis Previsualització no disponible - 2016 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Astrophel and Stella beauty Bibliographia bird bliss born breast Chaucer cheer Christ's College court Cupid dainty dame dear death delight disdain doth E'en earl England's Helicon English eyes fair faith farewell favour fear flowers following specimens Gloss Gorboduc grace green Greensleeves grief hairs Harpalus hath heart heaven Henry VIII honour king kiss lady live lord lov'd Love's lover lullaby lute Macedon mind mourning Muse never night nought Oxford pain pity poems poetical poetry poets praise prep printed pron Puttenham Queen reign Ritson's scorn shepherd shew sighs sight sing Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Wyatt Sith song SONNET soul summer queen sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thought three ravens translated tree unto verse Warton wight wind wine Wood words worth marriage wouldest not love youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 349 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it. My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Pàgina 389 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Pàgina 352 - Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require.
Pàgina 351 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Pàgina 334 - Tell them that brave it most, They beg for more by spending, Who, in their greatest cost, Seek nothing but commending: And if they make reply Then give them all the lie.
Pàgina 346 - Now the wasted brands do glow, 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...
Pàgina 220 - Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When Rivers rage, and Rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb, The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields, To wayward winter reckoning yields, A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Pàgina 388 - Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain; Suns, that set, may rise again ; . But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Pàgina 243 - CUPID and my Campaspe played At cards for kisses — Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin ; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me?* THE SONGS...
Pàgina 348 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell ALL.