The King and the Commons: Cavalier and Puritan SongSampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1869 - 198 страници |
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Страница xiii
... ended his days under the Commonwealth in years of extreme misery and want . He died in an alley near Shoe Lane . Cowley , a grocer's son , left early to the sole care of his mother , poet as a boy and growing up INTRODUCTION . xiii.
... ended his days under the Commonwealth in years of extreme misery and want . He died in an alley near Shoe Lane . Cowley , a grocer's son , left early to the sole care of his mother , poet as a boy and growing up INTRODUCTION . xiii.
Страница xiv
Cavalier and Puritan Song Henry Morley. his mother , poet as a boy and growing up into the largest poetical reputation of a later time , was so heartily the king's friend that in the last years of the great struggle he was chiefly ...
Cavalier and Puritan Song Henry Morley. his mother , poet as a boy and growing up into the largest poetical reputation of a later time , was so heartily the king's friend that in the last years of the great struggle he was chiefly ...
Страница xxix
... growing in a wood : - — " Now thou art gone and never must return ! Thee , shepherd , thee the woods and desert caves , With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown , And all their echoes mourn . " The same rhyme occurs also in Samson ...
... growing in a wood : - — " Now thou art gone and never must return ! Thee , shepherd , thee the woods and desert caves , With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown , And all their echoes mourn . " The same rhyme occurs also in Samson ...
Страница 9
... grows ! Distend my veins with purple juice , That mirth may through my soul diffuse . ' Tis wine and love , and love in wine Inspires our youth with flames divine . Thus , crown'd with Paphian myrtle , I In Cyprian shades will bathing ...
... grows ! Distend my veins with purple juice , That mirth may through my soul diffuse . ' Tis wine and love , and love in wine Inspires our youth with flames divine . Thus , crown'd with Paphian myrtle , I In Cyprian shades will bathing ...
Страница 12
... grow scrupulous of my sin , When I talk to show my wit . Therefore , madam , wear no cloud , Nor to check my love grow proud , For in sooth , I much do doubt ' Tis the powder on your hair , Not your breath , perfumes the air , And your ...
... grow scrupulous of my sin , When I talk to show my wit . Therefore , madam , wear no cloud , Nor to check my love grow proud , For in sooth , I much do doubt ' Tis the powder on your hair , Not your breath , perfumes the air , And your ...
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Alexander Brome Andrew Marvell arms Author beauty Ben Jonson breast call'd Castara Charles cloth extra colours court crown crown'd dare death didst dost doth earth Edition Edmund Waller English Epitaph eyes fair fall fate Fcap fear fight fire flame force George Wither give grace grief hand hast hath head heart heaven honour Illustrations John Cleveland John Milton king live Lord mind morocco muse ne'er never night noble numbers o'er peace PLEASURE poem poet post 8vo praise princes reign Richard Lovelace Robert Herrick royal sigh sing Sir John Suckling song soul Story swear Sweet Spirit sword thee thine things Thomas Carew thou shalt thought town town's new teacher trust unto verse victory volume weep Whilst William Cartwright William Habington winds wine wings word
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Страница 3 - 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.
Страница 49 - 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.
Страница 83 - 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.
Страница 168 - CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough'd.
Страница 179 - Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not : in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To heaven.
Страница 116 - The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For, having lost but...
Страница 72 - He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from starlike eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires, As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away.
Страница 5 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Страница 156 - HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measured song First taught our English music how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas' ears, committing short and long, Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, With praise enough for Envy to look wan : To after age thou shalt be writ the man That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue. Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire, That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn or...
Страница 145 - Cause I see a woman kind? Or a well disposed nature, Joined with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder, than Turtle-dove, or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be?