Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, Volume 1Bulmer, 1803 - 458 pages |
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Page 87
... I know That stooping Age away shall pull Which youthful years did sow . For Beauty with her band These crooked cares hath wrought , 4 • Ed . 1567 , " barehead . " And shipped me into the land From whence I first LORD VAUX . 87.
... I know That stooping Age away shall pull Which youthful years did sow . For Beauty with her band These crooked cares hath wrought , 4 • Ed . 1567 , " barehead . " And shipped me into the land From whence I first LORD VAUX . 87.
Page 95
... beauty but lent , And wish and want , as I have done . Now cease my lute : this is the last Labour that thou and I shall waste , And ended is that we begun ; Now is this song both sung and past ; My lute be still , for I have done ...
... beauty but lent , And wish and want , as I have done . Now cease my lute : this is the last Labour that thou and I shall waste , And ended is that we begun ; Now is this song both sung and past ; My lute be still , for I have done ...
Page 111
... beauty all too dear ! 66 " What reason is that cruelty " With beauty should have part ? " Or else that such great tyranny " Should dwell in woman's heart ? " O , Cupid , grant this my request , " And do not stop thine ears ! " That she ...
... beauty all too dear ! 66 " What reason is that cruelty " With beauty should have part ? " Or else that such great tyranny " Should dwell in woman's heart ? " O , Cupid , grant this my request , " And do not stop thine ears ! " That she ...
Page 167
... Beauty . ] [ From lord Orford's works , Vol . I. p . 552. ] WHEN I was fair and young , then favour graced me ; Of many was I sought their mistress for to be ; But I did scorn them all , and answer'd them there- fore , Go , go ! -go ...
... Beauty . ] [ From lord Orford's works , Vol . I. p . 552. ] WHEN I was fair and young , then favour graced me ; Of many was I sought their mistress for to be ; But I did scorn them all , and answer'd them there- fore , Go , go ! -go ...
Page 172
... beauty hath in durance brought ; Once , reason rul'd and guided me , And now is wit consum'd with thought . Once , I rejoic'd above the sky ; And now , for thee , alas , I die . Once , I rejoic'd in company ; And now , my chief and ...
... beauty hath in durance brought ; Once , reason rul'd and guided me , And now is wit consum'd with thought . Once , I rejoic'd above the sky ; And now , for thee , alas , I die . Once , I rejoic'd in company ; And now , my chief and ...
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Common terms and phrases
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
Popular passages
Page 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.
Page 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!
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.