English LyricsKegan Paul, Trench & Company, 1883 - 296 sider |
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Side 7
... in their kind , but could give it a taunt : Since flesh might not endure , but rest must wrath succeed , And force the fight to fall to play , in pasture where they feed , So noble nature can well end the work she hath RICHARD EDWARDS . 7.
... in their kind , but could give it a taunt : Since flesh might not endure , but rest must wrath succeed , And force the fight to fall to play , in pasture where they feed , So noble nature can well end the work she hath RICHARD EDWARDS . 7.
Side 24
... plays amidst the plain , If by the favour of propitious stars you gain Such grace as in my lady's bosom place to find ; Be proud to touch those places . And when her warmth your moisture forth doth wear , Whereby her dainty parts are ...
... plays amidst the plain , If by the favour of propitious stars you gain Such grace as in my lady's bosom place to find ; Be proud to touch those places . And when her warmth your moisture forth doth wear , Whereby her dainty parts are ...
Side 31
... play : Where I am clad in black , The token of my wrack . The birds upon the trees Do sing with pleasant voices , And chant in their degrees Their loves and lucky choices : When I whilst they are singing , With sighs mine arms am ...
... play : Where I am clad in black , The token of my wrack . The birds upon the trees Do sing with pleasant voices , And chant in their degrees Their loves and lucky choices : When I whilst they are singing , With sighs mine arms am ...
Side 32
... plays with me , Now with his feet . Within mine eyes he makes his nest , His bed amidst my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast , And yet he robs me of my rest . Ah ! wanton , will ye ? And if I sleep , then percheth he With ...
... plays with me , Now with his feet . Within mine eyes he makes his nest , His bed amidst my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast , And yet he robs me of my rest . Ah ! wanton , will ye ? And if I sleep , then percheth he With ...
Side 33
... play , For your offence . I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in , I'll make you fast it for your sin , I'll count your power not worth a pin . Alas ! what hereby shall I win If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ...
... play , For your offence . I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in , I'll make you fast it for your sin , I'll count your power not worth a pin . Alas ! what hereby shall I win If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
adieu Love Anthony Wood beauty BEN JONSON best fits birds blow bosom breast breath bright brow cold County Guy Cynthia's Revels dead infected dear death delight doth earth England's Helicon eyes fair Samela fancy fear fire fits a little flowers Forget friends GEORGE GASCOIGNE give gone grave hath heart heaven holly Honour lady leaves live look Love is dead Love's lovers lulla lullaby lyric mourn ne'er never NICHOLAS BRETON night numbers o'er old familiar faces pain peace Phillada flouts Phillis pity pleasure poem Queen rage of wind ROBERT SOUTHWELL roses scorn shepherd shine sighs sight sing sleep smile SONG sorrow soul spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine things THOMAS DEKKER thou art thou dost Thou hast thought toil tomb tree ULYSSES unto untrue Love verse waking eye wanton waves weep wert winds youth
Populære passager
Side 120 - 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.
Side 186 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight ; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament : Her eyes as stars of twilight fair ; Like twilight's too her dusky hair ; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn ; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Side 224 - And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head; And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But little he'll reck; if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Side 66 - A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. W PILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run And do run still, though still I do deplore ? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done ; For I have more.
Side 136 - 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.
Side 57 - 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. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown...
Side 69 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose: Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess, excellently bright!
Side 116 - SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die.
Side 216 - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Side 81 - 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...