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 162
... sweet and harmo- " nical . - And this was the action : our sovereign lady , " perceiving how by the Scotish queen's residence within " this realm , at so great liberty and ease as were scarce " worthy of so great and dangerous a ...
... sweet and harmo- " nical . - And this was the action : our sovereign lady , " perceiving how by the Scotish queen's residence within " this realm , at so great liberty and ease as were scarce " worthy of so great and dangerous a ...
Pàgina 166
... Sweet eye , sweet lip , sweet blushing cheek , Yet not a heart to save my pain ? O Venus ! take thy gifts again . Make nought so fair to cause our moan , Or make a heart that's like your own . EARL OF OXFORD . Edward Vere , earl of ...
... Sweet eye , sweet lip , sweet blushing cheek , Yet not a heart to save my pain ? O Venus ! take thy gifts again . Make nought so fair to cause our moan , Or make a heart that's like your own . EARL OF OXFORD . Edward Vere , earl of ...
Pàgina 169
... sweet boy , wert thou begot ? " " By Good - conceit men say . " " Tell me who was thy nurse ? " " Fresh Youth , in sugar'd joy . " " What was thy meat and daily food ? " " Sore sighs , with great annoy . " " What had you then to drink ...
... sweet boy , wert thou begot ? " " By Good - conceit men say . " " Tell me who was thy nurse ? " " Fresh Youth , in sugar'd joy . " " What was thy meat and daily food ? " " Sore sighs , with great annoy . " " What had you then to drink ...
Pàgina 191
... SWEET are the thoughts that savour of content ; The quiet mind is richer than a crown : Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown . Such sweet content , such minds , such sleep ...
... SWEET are the thoughts that savour of content ; The quiet mind is richer than a crown : Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown . Such sweet content , such minds , such sleep ...
Pàgina 196
... sweet a thing That such happy bliss doth bring , Happy is love's sugar'd thrall ; But unhappy maidens all , Who esteem your virgin's blisses Sweeter than a wife's sweet kisses . No such quiet to the mind As true love , with kisses kind ...
... sweet a thing That such happy bliss doth bring , Happy is love's sugar'd thrall ; But unhappy maidens all , Who esteem your virgin's blisses Sweeter than a wife's sweet kisses . No such quiet to the mind As true love , with kisses kind ...
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.