The Book of Elizabethan VerseWilliam Stanley Braithwaite |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 100
Page x
... rest that have written before her time or since , for sense , sweetness and subtilitie . . . even by as much oddes as her own excellent estate and degree exceedeth all the rest of her most humble vassals . " The slight- est glance at ...
... rest that have written before her time or since , for sense , sweetness and subtilitie . . . even by as much oddes as her own excellent estate and degree exceedeth all the rest of her most humble vassals . " The slight- est glance at ...
Page xx
... ; Let them elsewhere resort . Our rusty sword with rest Shall first his edge employ , To poll their tops that seek such change And gape for future joy . Queen Elizabeth I. THE Aubade HE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest THE DOUBT.
... ; Let them elsewhere resort . Our rusty sword with rest Shall first his edge employ , To poll their tops that seek such change And gape for future joy . Queen Elizabeth I. THE Aubade HE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest THE DOUBT.
Page 16
... rest ; Then thou would'st melt the ice out of thy breast And thy relenting heart would kindly warm . O if thy pride did not our joys controul , What world of loving wonders should'st thou see ; For if I saw thee once transformed in me ...
... rest ; Then thou would'st melt the ice out of thy breast And thy relenting heart would kindly warm . O if thy pride did not our joys controul , What world of loving wonders should'st thou see ; For if I saw thee once transformed in me ...
Page 42
... rest : To the field we are not pressed ; Nor are called into the town , To be troubled with the gown . Hang all officers , we cry , And the magistrate too , by ! When the subsidy's increased , We are not a penny sessed ; Nor will any go ...
... rest : To the field we are not pressed ; Nor are called into the town , To be troubled with the gown . Hang all officers , we cry , And the magistrate too , by ! When the subsidy's increased , We are not a penny sessed ; Nor will any go ...
Page 48
... 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 . Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy beds of roses , Thy cap ...
... 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 . Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy beds of roses , Thy cap ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Anon Astrophel and Stella beauty bel ami Ben Jonson birds bliss Book of Airs bright Bullen Campion Corydon Cynthia's Revels dear death delight desire dost doth Dowden earth Elizabethan Elizabethan Lyrics England's Helicon eyes Faery Queene fair fairy-queen Faithful Shepherdess fear fire flowers give glory golden grace green grief Grosart hair happy hast hath heart heaven heavenly Herrick honour Jonson King kiss Lady leave light Line Line 11 lips live look Lord Love's lovers lullaby Madrigals merry mind Muses N'oserez never night nymphs passions pleasure poem poet poetry praise Prof Queen Queen Mab roses says Schelling Shake-speare's Sonnettes Shakespeare shalt shepherd shine sighs sing sleep smile song sonnet sorrow soul Spenser spring stanzas sweet tears tell Tereus thee thine things thou art thought true love unto verses wanton weep Whilst wind words youth
Popular passages
Page 424 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 442 - 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.
Page 561 - Tu-whit, tu-who ! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit, tu-who ! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Page 552 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Page 201 - Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Page 59 - It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding : Sweet lovers love the spring.
Page 313 - How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays...
Page 403 - Orpheus with his lute made trees. And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung ; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring.
Page 538 - SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky! The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly...
Page 45 - IF all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.