English Poetry, Volume 40 |
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Page 13
... hope to stonden in his lady grace . Embrouded was he , as it were a mede Al ful of fresshe floures , whyte and rede . Singinge he was , or floytinge , al the day ; He was as fresh as in the month of May . Short was his goune , with ...
... hope to stonden in his lady grace . Embrouded was he , as it were a mede Al ful of fresshe floures , whyte and rede . Singinge he was , or floytinge , al the day ; He was as fresh as in the month of May . Short was his goune , with ...
Page 50
... hope and pryde eek of hir enemy ! This cok , that lay upon the foxes bak , In al his drede , un - to the fox he spak , And seyde , sire , if that I were as ye , Yet sholde I seyn ( as wis10 God helpe me ) , Turneth agayn , ye proude ...
... hope and pryde eek of hir enemy ! This cok , that lay upon the foxes bak , In al his drede , un - to the fox he spak , And seyde , sire , if that I were as ye , Yet sholde I seyn ( as wis10 God helpe me ) , Turneth agayn , ye proude ...
Page 196
... hope , that is his sail , Toward me , the swete port of his avail . Alas ! how oft in dreams I see Those eyes that were my food ; Which sometime so delighted me , That yet they do me good : Wherewith I wake with his return Whose absent ...
... hope , that is his sail , Toward me , the swete port of his avail . Alas ! how oft in dreams I see Those eyes that were my food ; Which sometime so delighted me , That yet they do me good : Wherewith I wake with his return Whose absent ...
Page 197
... hope doth cause me plain ; So dread cuts off my joy . Thus in my wealth mingled with woe And of each thought a doubt doth grow ; -Now he comes ! Will he come ? Alas ! no , no . 39 THE MEANS TO ATTAIN HAPPY LIFE MARTIAL , the things that ...
... hope doth cause me plain ; So dread cuts off my joy . Thus in my wealth mingled with woe And of each thought a doubt doth grow ; -Now he comes ! Will he come ? Alas ! no , no . 39 THE MEANS TO ATTAIN HAPPY LIFE MARTIAL , the things that ...
Page 206
... hope's true gage ; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage . Blood must be my body's balmer ; No other balm will there be given ; Whilst my soul , like quiet palmer , Travelleth towards the land of heaven ; Over the silver mountains , Where ...
... hope's true gage ; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage . Blood must be my body's balmer ; No other balm will there be given ; Whilst my soul , like quiet palmer , Travelleth towards the land of heaven ; Over the silver mountains , Where ...
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Common terms and phrases
beauty birds blest bliss bonny breast breath bright coude Cuckoo dear death dost doth earth eccho ring ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes fair fate fayre fear flowers fool frae gentle give gode grace green hair happy hath heart heaven Heigh Hind Horn honour Johnn JOSHUA SYLVESTER king Kirconnell knyght kynge lady lero light Litell little boy live livës joy Lord Love's lovers lullaby lyre Lytell Johan merry mind moche mordre Muse nature's ne'er never night nymph o'er passion pleasure pow'r praise pride proud Robyn Hode rose sayd Robyn scorn shalt shine sigh Sing sleep song SONNET soul spring sweet tears tell tereu thee ther theyr thine thing thou art thou hast thought thro tree trewe twa sisters Twas unto virtue waly waly wawking whan wind wolde wyll youth
Popular passages
Page 362 - 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 265 - O, mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear ; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers' meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
Page 457 - A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 408 - The unwearied sun from day to day Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail The moon takes Up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Page 265 - 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...
Page 455 - Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th...
Page 208 - Even such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust ; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust ! ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANIES.
Page 345 - We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain ; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Page 456 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree ; Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 304 - Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever, Thou that mak'st...