A Pageant of Elizabethan PoetryBlackie, 1906 - 412 sider |
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Side 4
... unto these yellow sands , And then take hands : Courtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist , Foot it featly here and there ; And , sweet sprites , the burthen bear . Hark , hark ! Bow - wow . The watch - dogs bark : Bow ...
... unto these yellow sands , And then take hands : Courtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist , Foot it featly here and there ; And , sweet sprites , the burthen bear . Hark , hark ! Bow - wow . The watch - dogs bark : Bow ...
Side 17
... unto me As Cleopatra came to Antony , my blood When her high carriage did at once present To the triumvir love and wonderment . Swell up my nerves with spirit ; let Run through my veins like to a hasty flood . Fill each part full of ...
... unto me As Cleopatra came to Antony , my blood When her high carriage did at once present To the triumvir love and wonderment . Swell up my nerves with spirit ; let Run through my veins like to a hasty flood . Fill each part full of ...
Side 19
... unto his love at night O thou that art so courteous else to all , Why shouldst thou , Night , abuse me only thus , That every creature to his kind dost call , And yet ' t is thou dost only sever us ? Well could I wish it would be ever ...
... unto his love at night O thou that art so courteous else to all , Why shouldst thou , Night , abuse me only thus , That every creature to his kind dost call , And yet ' t is thou dost only sever us ? Well could I wish it would be ever ...
Side 28
... unto my true love say , Sweet Peg , thou shalt be my Summer's Queen . Now the nightingale , the pretty nightingale , The sweetest singer in all the forest quire , Entreats thee , sweet Peggy , to hear thy true love's tale : Lo , yonder ...
... unto my true love say , Sweet Peg , thou shalt be my Summer's Queen . Now the nightingale , the pretty nightingale , The sweetest singer in all the forest quire , Entreats thee , sweet Peggy , to hear thy true love's tale : Lo , yonder ...
Side 31
... Unto the sweet bird's throat , Come hither , come hither , come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather . Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i ' the sun , Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he ...
... Unto the sweet bird's throat , Come hither , come hither , come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather . Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i ' the sun , Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
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.