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Mornings in Spring; Or, Retrospections, Biographical, Critical ..., Volume 1
No preview available - 2012
admiration amiable amongst appear Arcadia bard battle beauty Ben Jonson Bolton Bolton Abbey breath castle celebrated character countess of Pembroke Craven dear death delight dost doth earl early earth Edward English epistles eyes fame father favourite feeling field Flodden folio edition genius happy hath Hawthornden heart Henry honour house of York Jonson king knight lady learned letter literary live lord Clifford mankynde I love MARY SIDNEY memory ment mind moral mynde nature never noble Nut-brown Maid o'er period pleasure Pliny poem poet poetical poetry Psalms quĉ quid quod racter Robert de Clifford Roslin scene Scotland Scots Scottish shal Sidney Psalms sir Henry Sidney sir Philip Sidney sir Walter Scott sister Skipton song sonnets spring stanza sweet talents taste thee thou thought tion translation verse virtue whilst Whitaker William Drummond wood writings written youth
Page 89 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, , His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Page 272 - Of winters past, or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights which present are, Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweetsmelling...
Page 257 - Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world, doth live his own ; Though solitary, who is not alone, But doth converse with that eternal Love. O how more sweet is bird's harmonious moan, Or the hoarse sobbings of the widow'd dove, Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's throne, Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve...
Page 219 - Love had he found in huts where poor men lie ; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Page 209 - The fairest productions of human wit, after a few perusals, like gathered flowers, wither in our hands, and lose their fragrancy ; but these unfading plants of paradise become, as we are accustomed to them, still more and more beautiful; their bloom appears to be daily heightened ; fresh odours are emitted, and new sweets extracted from them. He who hath once tasted their excellencies, will desire to taste them yet again ; and he who tastes them oftenest, will relish them best.
Page 241 - King James did rushing come. Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, Until at weapon-point they close. They close in clouds of smoke and dust, With sword-sway and with lance's thrust; And such a yell was there Of sudden and portentous birth, As if men fought upon the earth And fiends in upper air; O life and death were in the shout, Recoil and rally, charge and rout, And triumph and despair.
Page 120 - Think upon every word that you will speak before you utter it, and remember how nature hath Tampered up, as it were, the tongue with teeth, lips, yea and hair without the lips, and all betokening reins or bridles, for the loose use of that member. Above all things tell no untruth, no not in trifles. The custom of it is naughty...
Page 169 - Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call 'virtue' there — ungratefulness? 94. Sleep /^OME, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, ^** The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, Th...
Page 168 - 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 languished grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.