A Pageant of Elizabethan PoetryBlackie, 1906 - 412 sider |
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Side 2
... is music , and thy beauty's Birth is heavenly . These dull notes we sing Discords need for helps to grace them , Only beauty purely loving Knows no discord , But still moves delight , Like clear springs renewed by 2 3.
... is music , and thy beauty's Birth is heavenly . These dull notes we sing Discords need for helps to grace them , Only beauty purely loving Knows no discord , But still moves delight , Like clear springs renewed by 2 3.
Side 20
... grace , Come as thou wilt , and what thou wilt bequeath : I long to kiss the image of death . 31 my Madrigal The ivory , coral , gold , Of breast , of lips , of hair , Drummond . So lively Sleep doth show to inward sight , That wake I ...
... grace , Come as thou wilt , and what thou wilt bequeath : I long to kiss the image of death . 31 my Madrigal The ivory , coral , gold , Of breast , of lips , of hair , Drummond . So lively Sleep doth show to inward sight , That wake I ...
Side 26
... grace . Campion . 41 To the Virgins , to make much of Time Gather rosebuds while ye may , ye Old time is still a - flying : And this same flower that smiles to - day To - morrow will be dying . The glorious lamp of heaven , the sun ...
... grace . Campion . 41 To the Virgins , to make much of Time Gather rosebuds while ye may , ye Old time is still a - flying : And this same flower that smiles to - day To - morrow will be dying . The glorious lamp of heaven , the sun ...
Side 41
... grace of it . On holidays , when virgins meet To dance the heyes with nimble feet , Thou shalt come forth , and then appear The queen of roses for that year ; And having danced , ' bove all the best , Carry the garland from the rest ...
... grace of it . On holidays , when virgins meet To dance the heyes with nimble feet , Thou shalt come forth , and then appear The queen of roses for that year ; And having danced , ' bove all the best , Carry the garland from the rest ...
Side 54
... grace ; In whose worthy wonder's praise See what her true shepherd says . She is neither proud nor fine , But in spirit more divine ; She can neither lour nor leer , But a sweeter smiling cheer ; She had never painted face , But a ...
... grace ; In whose worthy wonder's praise See what her true shepherd says . She is neither proud nor fine , But in spirit more divine ; She can neither lour nor leer , But a sweeter smiling cheer ; She had never painted face , But a ...
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Anonymous Barnabe Barnes beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson birds breath bright bring Campion Carmela Charon Claia Corydon cuckoo Daffodil dead dear death delight desire Donne dost doth Drayton earth echo ring eyes fair Fairy fairy-queen fear flowers fools give gone grace grief hair hath hear heart heaven Heigh-ho Herrick Hey-ho honour Hymen King kiss leave light little boy live livës joy look love's lovers lullaby maids merry Mertilla mind ne'er never Nicholas Breton night numbers nymphs Oberon passion Perigot Perilla Philomel Phyllida Pigwiggen pleasure poem poor praise pretty Proserpina Queen Queen Mab quoth roses scorn Shakespeare shepherd shine Sidney sighs sight sing sleep smile song sonnets soul spring stay sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thou shalt thoughts true love unto untrue Love wanton weep Whilst Willy wilt wind youth
Populære passager
Side 365 - Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy...
Side 362 - ... the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 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.
Side 130 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Side 355 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Side 342 - They that have power to hurt and will do none,' That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, They rightly do inherit heaven's graces And husband nature's riches from expense ; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence.
Side 242 - come let us kiss and part, — Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free...
Side 35 - When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo...
Side 223 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest...
Side 147 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed : Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace : Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Side 23 - SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day.