Froissart Ballads: And Other PoemsCarey and Hart, 1847 - 216 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
Acteon agen amain Aquitaine arms autumn band Bearn beast bird boar bold bore bower brave Brennesville brow Canterbury Tales castle cheek chivalry chronicle Cornstalk countess dame damsel dear drew earl Emily eyes fair falconry Florence Vane France Frankish gallant Gaston Gaston of Foix Gawen Bolton gentle Guienne hand Hath Hazelden hear heard heart helm hill honour horse hound Jacquerie Jocelind John Cathore jousts knight knightly lady lady's lance land Lily look Lord Corasse Lord of Reyneval Lord Saimpi maid maiden Master of Bolton merry Normandy Ortaise Orthone Parthenay passed Picardy pleasant poems Point Pleasant proud quoth rein ride rode Rousillon rushes brown sate Shawnee Sir Anthony Sir Ernalton Sir Gawen Sir John Sir Peter sire spake spear steed story stout sweet swift sword tale Tetenoire thee thou trow truth tulip tree Ventadore ween wild wind words young
Popular passages
Page 170 - I loved thee long and dearly, Florence Vane; My life's bright dream, and early, Hath come again ; I renew, in my fond vision, My heart's dear pain, My hope, and thy derision, Florence Vane. The ruin lone and hoary, The ruin old, Where thou didst hark my story, At even told, — That spot— the hues Elysian Of sky and plain — I treasure in my vision, Florence Vane. Thou wast lovelier than the roses In their prime : Thy voice excelled the closes Of sweetest rhyme ; Thy heart was as a river Without...
Page 210 - We now had left him, passing on our way, When I beheld two spirits by the ice Pent in one hollow, that the head of one Was cowl unto the other; and as bread Is raven'd up through hunger, the uppermost Did so apply his fangs to the other's brain, Where the spine joins it. Not more furiously On Menalippus' temples Tydeus gnaw'd, Than on that skull and on its garbage he.
Page 184 - To hear the belling hart. It was a gentle taste, but its sweet sadness Yields to the hunter's madness. What passionate And keen delight is in the proud swift chase ! Go out what time the lark at heaven's red gate Soars joyously singing — quite infuriate With the high pride of his place; What time the unrisen sun arrays the morning In its first bright adorning. Hark ! the quick horn — As sweet to hear as any clarion — Piercing with silver call the ear of morn ; And mark the steeds, stout Curtal...
Page 182 - I love the woods, In this good season of the liberal year; I love to seek their leafy solitudes, And give myself to melancholy moods, With no intruder near, And find strange lessons, as I sit and ponder, In every natural wonder. But not alone, As Shakespeare's...
Page 172 - I treasure in my vision, Florence Vane. Thou wast lovelier than the roses In their prime; Thy voice excelled the closes Of sweetest rhyme; Thy heart was as a river Without a main. Would I had loved thee never, Florence Vane! But, fairest, coldest wonder! Thy glorious clay Lieth the green sod under — Alas, the day! And it boots not to remember Thy disdain, To quicken love's pale ember, Florence Vane. The lilies of the valley By young graves weep; The daisies love to dally Where maidens sleep. May...
Page 9 - A certain freak has got into my head, Which I can't conquer for the life of me, Of taking up some history, little read, Or known, and writing it in poetry.
Page 183 - Shakespeare's melancholy courtier loved Ardennes, Love I the browning forest ; and I own I would not oft have mused, as he, but flown To hunt with Amiens — And little thought, as up the bold deer bounded, Of the sad creature wounded.
Page 204 - I LOVE to forget ambition, And hope, in the mingled thought Of valley, and wood, and meadow, Where, whilome, my spirit caught Affection's holiest breathings — Where under the skies, with me Young Rosalie roved, aye drinking From joy's bright Castaly.
Page 204 - Of the old wood bright with blossoms ; Of the pure and chastened gladness Upspringing in our bosoms. I think of the lonely turtle So tongued with melancholy ; Of the hue of the drooping moonlight, And the starlight pure and holy. Of the beat of a heart most tender, The sigh of a shell-tinct lip As soft as the...
Page 21 - Swift answer'd merry- Emily — " Undine is but a girl, you know, And would not pine for love of me ; She has been peering from the brook, And glimpsed at you." She said and shook With a rare fit of silvery laughter. I was more circumspect thereafter, And dealt in homelier talk. A man May call a white-brow'd girl " Dian," But likes not to be turn'd upon, And nick-named "Young Endymion.