Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, Том 1Bulmer, 1803 - 458 страници |
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Страница 32
... gone , " Then should I mourn no more ! " As red gold - wire shinit her hair , And all in green the may she glaid ; 3 Ane , bent bow in her hand she bare , Under her belt were arrows braid . + I followit on that free , s That seemly was ...
... gone , " Then should I mourn no more ! " As red gold - wire shinit her hair , And all in green the may she glaid ; 3 Ane , bent bow in her hand she bare , Under her belt were arrows braid . + I followit on that free , s That seemly was ...
Страница 50
... gone . I cannot speak and look like as a saint , Use wiles for wit , and make deceit a pleasure , Call craft counsel , for lucre still to paint ; I cannot wrest the law to fill the coffer ; With innocent blood to feed myself fat , And ...
... gone . I cannot speak and look like as a saint , Use wiles for wit , and make deceit a pleasure , Call craft counsel , for lucre still to paint ; I cannot wrest the law to fill the coffer ; With innocent blood to feed myself fat , And ...
Страница 60
... gone so near her heart ; And this was chiefly all her pain , She could not make the like again . Sith Nature thus gave her the praise To be the chiefest work she wrought ; In faith , methink , some better ways On your behalf might well ...
... gone so near her heart ; And this was chiefly all her pain , She could not make the like again . Sith Nature thus gave her the praise To be the chiefest work she wrought ; In faith , methink , some better ways On your behalf might well ...
Страница 97
... gone ! The painful path that I forsook ! I see them wander all alone , And tread full fast in dreadful doubt The self - same path that I have gone ! Blessed be hap that brought me out ! At liberty all this I see ; And say no word but ...
... gone ! The painful path that I forsook ! I see them wander all alone , And tread full fast in dreadful doubt The self - same path that I have gone ! Blessed be hap that brought me out ! At liberty all this I see ; And say no word but ...
Страница 99
... gone . Boast not yourselves at all ! For here at hand approacheth one Whose face will stain you all . The virtue of her lively looks Excels the precious stone : I wish to have none other books To read or look upon . In each of her two ...
... gone . Boast not yourselves at all ! For here at hand approacheth one Whose face will stain you all . The virtue of her lively looks Excels the precious stone : I wish to have none other books To read or look upon . In each of her two ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
Astrophel and Stella beauty 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 look lord lov'd Love's lover lullaby lute mind mourning Muse never night nought Oxford pain pity poems poetical poetry poets praise prep printed pron Puttenham Queen reign scorn shepherd sighs sight sing Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Wyatt Sith song SONNET soul summer queen sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thought translated tree unto verse Vide Sibbald Warton wight wind wine Wood words worth marriage wouldest not love youth
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Страница 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.
Страница 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!
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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...
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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...
Страница 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.