British Anthologies, Том 4Edward Arber Henry Frowde, 1901 |
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Страница 8
... of all his growth , A vengeful canker eat him up to death ! More flowers I noted ; yet I none could see , But , sweet , or colour , it had stolen from thee ! HARK ! Hark ! The lark at heaven's gate sings 8 William Shakespeare .
... of all his growth , A vengeful canker eat him up to death ! More flowers I noted ; yet I none could see , But , sweet , or colour , it had stolen from thee ! HARK ! Hark ! The lark at heaven's gate sings 8 William Shakespeare .
Страница 9
... flowers that lies . And winking mary - buds begin to ope their golden eyes ; With every thing that pretty is ! My Lady sweet , arise ! Arise ! arise ! How should I , your True Love know From another one ? By his cockle hat and staff ...
... flowers that lies . And winking mary - buds begin to ope their golden eyes ; With every thing that pretty is ! My Lady sweet , arise ! Arise ! arise ! How should I , your True Love know From another one ? By his cockle hat and staff ...
Страница 14
... flowers Ever sprang ! as sun and showers There had made a lasting Spring . Every thing that heard him play , Even the billows of the sea , Hung their heads ; and then lay by ! In sweet Music is such art , Killing care and grief of heart ...
... flowers Ever sprang ! as sun and showers There had made a lasting Spring . Every thing that heard him play , Even the billows of the sea , Hung their heads ; and then lay by ! In sweet Music is such art , Killing care and grief of heart ...
Страница 15
... 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 ! Not a flower , not a flower sweet On my 115 William Shakespeare .
... 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 ! Not a flower , not a flower sweet On my 115 William Shakespeare .
Страница 16
Edward Arber. Not a flower , not a flower sweet On my black coffin , let there be strown ! Not a friend , not a friend greet My poor corse ! where my bones shall be thrown . A thousand thousand sighs to save , Lay me , O , where Sad True ...
Edward Arber. Not a flower , not a flower sweet On my black coffin , let there be strown ! Not a friend , not a friend greet My poor corse ! where my bones shall be thrown . A thousand thousand sighs to save , Lay me , O , where Sad True ...
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ANON ANTHOLOGY BEAUMONT BEAUMONT and FLETCHER Beauty birds BODENHAM'S England's Helicon Bodleian Library CAMPION Cherry ripe Comedies CORIDON Crown 8vo CUPID Cynthia's Revels DAVISON'S Poetical Rhapsody death delight desire disdain doth Earl of MURRAY earth Edited Extra fcap eyes face fair Faithful Shepherdess fear FLETCHER flowers FRANCIS BEAUMONT frown gold grace happy HARPALUS hast hath hear heart heaven Heigh-ho hey trolly High trololly honour Humble dum HYMEN India Paper Jolly Shepherd JONSON kiss Lady little boy live lolly Love's Lovers lullaby M.D. Airs Madrigals Maid Maid's Tragedy merry mind Mistress ne'er never night Nymphs pain pity pleasure Poems praise Queen quoth RALEGH roses S.J. St scorn SHAKESPEARE shine sighs sing Songs sorrow soul Swain sweet Love tears Tell thee thine thought True Love Tweedle twino unto VENUS W. W. SKEAT wanton weep Whilst WIDOW WIFE Women wound
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Страница 9 - Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Страница 13 - 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 201 - With the best gamesters : what things have we seen Done at the Mermaid; heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life...
Страница 17 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity : 'Fie, fie, fie...
Страница 13 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Страница 219 - DRINK to me, only with thine eyes; And I will pledge with mine! Or leave a kiss but in the cup; And I'll not look for wine!
Страница 12 - em, if thou canst : leave working. SONG. 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. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Страница 63 - As I in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow, Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow ; And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near, A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear, ;: Who scorched with excessive heat such floods of tears did shed, As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed. Alas...
Страница 8 - The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind, as she is fair, For beauty lives with kindness f Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being helpd, inhabits there.
Страница 3 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered 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.