Specimens of the Early English Poets, Volume 1Edwards, 1790 - 323 pages |
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Page 6
... , thy pleasant years ? With fighing voice weep and lament , For of thy Hope no fruit appears , Thy true meaning is paid with Scorn That ever foweth and reapeth no Corn . And when thou seek'ft a quiet part Thou doft but 6.
... , thy pleasant years ? With fighing voice weep and lament , For of thy Hope no fruit appears , Thy true meaning is paid with Scorn That ever foweth and reapeth no Corn . And when thou seek'ft a quiet part Thou doft but 6.
Page 26
... hope at last to see thee paid With deep repentance for thy part Which thou haft now fo lewdly play'd ; Medoro , he must be thy make , Since thou Orlando doft forfake . WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR . SONG . BLOW , blow thou Winter 26 GEORGE ...
... hope at last to see thee paid With deep repentance for thy part Which thou haft now fo lewdly play'd ; Medoro , he must be thy make , Since thou Orlando doft forfake . WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR . SONG . BLOW , blow thou Winter 26 GEORGE ...
Page 52
... Hope , like thy fool , at thy bed's head , Mock thee , ' till madness ftrike thee dead ; As , Phaon , thou doft me with thy proud eyes : In thee poor Sappho lives , for thee she dies . VULCAN'S SONG . My fhag - hair'd Cyclops come ...
... Hope , like thy fool , at thy bed's head , Mock thee , ' till madness ftrike thee dead ; As , Phaon , thou doft me with thy proud eyes : In thee poor Sappho lives , for thee she dies . VULCAN'S SONG . My fhag - hair'd Cyclops come ...
Page 64
... hope upon delights It is but mere deceit . And therefore , my fweet muse , That know'ft what help is best , Do now thy heavenly cunning use To fet my heart at reft . And in a dream bewray What fate shall be my friend ; Whether my life ...
... hope upon delights It is but mere deceit . And therefore , my fweet muse , That know'ft what help is best , Do now thy heavenly cunning use To fet my heart at reft . And in a dream bewray What fate shall be my friend ; Whether my life ...
Page 78
... hope time coming may With change bring back my turn again to play ? I that on Sunday at the church - ftile found A garland sweet , with true - love - knots in flow'rs , Which I to wear about my arm was wont , That each of us might know ...
... hope time coming may With change bring back my turn again to play ? I that on Sunday at the church - ftile found A garland sweet , with true - love - knots in flow'rs , Which I to wear about my arm was wont , That each of us might know ...
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Common terms and phrases
againſt beauty beauty's beſt birds bluſh breaſt breath cauſe cheek Corydon Cupid dear defire delight deſpair doft doth eyes fair fcorn fear feek feem fenfes ferve fhall fhew fighs fince fing firſt flame fleep flowers fmile fnow fome fong foon forrow foul freſh ftars ftill ftreams fuch fweet grace grief Harpalus hath heart heav'n himſelf joys kifs kiſs laſt live loft loſe lov'd love's lovers lullaby maid melancholy Methinks miſtreſs moft moſt muft muſt myſelf ne'er night nought nymph paffion paſs Phillida Phillis pleaſant pleaſe pleaſure pofies praiſe preſent reaſon reft rofe roſe ſay ſee ſeems ſhade ſhall ſhape ſhe ſhepherd ſhould ſhow ſkies ſmile SONG SONNET ſpend ſpent ſpread ſpring ſtate ſtay ſtill ſweet tears Tell tereu thee themſelves theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thouſand uſe wanton Whilft whofe Whoſe wind wiſh youth
Popular passages
Page 114 - 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 262 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Page 262 - Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.
Page 189 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Page 31 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered 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.
Page 256 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
Page 138 - Since there's no help, 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. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Page 30 - When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit ; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Page 257 - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
Page 257 - As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.