English Lyric Poetry, 1500-1700Frederic Ives Carpenter Blackie & son, limited, 1897 - 276 страници |
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Страница xlvi
... hour ; until lastly all these themes in their turn give place to others of deeper and more sombre meaning . But in the earlier Elizabethan poetry at least we discover proof that the English sense of pure beauty has found expression in ...
... hour ; until lastly all these themes in their turn give place to others of deeper and more sombre meaning . But in the earlier Elizabethan poetry at least we discover proof that the English sense of pure beauty has found expression in ...
Страница 10
... thy Saviour . To Christ , that rose from death to life , Go , heart , unto my latter hour , Whose great mercy can none descrive , Go , heart , unto thy Saviour . 1 death . LEAVE ME NOT . Psalm xxvii . 9 . H IO ENGLISH LYRIC POETRY .
... thy Saviour . To Christ , that rose from death to life , Go , heart , unto my latter hour , Whose great mercy can none descrive , Go , heart , unto thy Saviour . 1 death . LEAVE ME NOT . Psalm xxvii . 9 . H IO ENGLISH LYRIC POETRY .
Страница 21
... hour Doth lead unto your lovers ' blissful bower , Joy may you have , and gentle hearts ' content Of your love's couplement ; And let fair Venus , that is queen of love , With her heart - quelling son upon you smile , Whose smile , they ...
... hour Doth lead unto your lovers ' blissful bower , Joy may you have , and gentle hearts ' content Of your love's couplement ; And let fair Venus , that is queen of love , With her heart - quelling son upon you smile , Whose smile , they ...
Страница 27
... hours , which were begot , In Jove's sweet paradise of Day and Night ; Which do the seasons of the year allot , And all that ever in this world is fair , Do make and still repair : And ye three handmaids of the Cyprian queen , The which ...
... hours , which were begot , In Jove's sweet paradise of Day and Night ; Which do the seasons of the year allot , And all that ever in this world is fair , Do make and still repair : And ye three handmaids of the Cyprian queen , The which ...
Страница 32
... hours their numbers spend ! How slowly does sad Time his feathers move ! Haste thee , O fairest planet , to thy home , Within the western foam : Thy tired steeds long since have need of rest . Long though it be , at last I see it gloom ...
... hours their numbers spend ! How slowly does sad Time his feathers move ! Haste thee , O fairest planet , to thy home , Within the western foam : Thy tired steeds long since have need of rest . Long though it be , at last I see it gloom ...
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Arber's Garner beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson birds blessed bliss Book of Airs bower breath bright bring the day Campion Castara clouds cuckoo dance dear death delight divine Donne dost doth E. K. Chambers earth echo ring edited Elizabethan England's Helicon EPITHALAMIUM eyes fair fairy fear flowers golden golden slumbers grace green Grosart grove H. F. Lyte happy hath hear heart heaven heavenly honour Hymen HYMN king kiss Laius leave light live look Lord Love's lovers Lullaby lyric lyric poetry Madrigals Masque merrily merry mind ne'er never night nightingale nymphs o'er pleasure Poems poetic poetry Poets praise queen reprinted roses shepherd shine sigh sing sleep smile song SONNET sorrow soul spring stars Sweet Phosphor Sweet Spirit sweetly tears thee thine things thou art Thou hast Trilla unto verse W. C. Ward waly wanton weep Whilst wind youth
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Страница 223 - 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 184 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles, Nods and Becks and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek ; 30 Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it, as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
Страница 232 - Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Страница 190 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what, though rare, of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But, O sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ! Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes, as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made hell grant what love did seek...
Страница 88 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Страница 85 - 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 86 - 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 81 - Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby ; Never harm, nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.
Страница 196 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who, from her green lap, throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thce with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Страница 89 - Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.