La Musa Madrigalesca: Or, A Collection of Madrigals, Ballets, Roundelays, Etc., Chiefly of the Elizabethan Age; with Remarks and Annotations. By Thomas Oliphant
Calkin and Budd, 1837 - 338
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Strona 282 - My true love hath my heart, and I have his. His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his because in me it bides: My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
Strona 206 - My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn is but a field of tares, And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is past, and yet I saw no sun, And now I live, and now my life is done.
Strona 307 - Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears : Yet slower, yet ; O faintly, gentle springs : List to the heavy part the music bears, Woe weeps out her division, when she sings. Droop herbs and flowers, Fall grief in showers, Our beauties are not ours...
Strona 323 - Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content; The quiet mind is richer than a crown; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown ; Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
Strona 22 - Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love ! Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love ! Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Strona 7 - ... their rage of will ; Their treasure is their only trust ; A cloaked craft their store of skill : But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind. My wealth is health and perfect ease : My conscience clear my chief defence ; I neither seek by bribes to please, Nor by deceit to breed offence : Thus do I live ; thus will I die ; Would all did so as well as I ! To PHILLIS THE FAIR SHEPHERDESS.
Strona 157 - And lovers' sonnets turned to holy psalms, A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees, And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms: But though from court to cottage he depart, His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart. And when he saddest sits in homely cell, He'll teach his swains this carol for a song, — ''Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well, Curst be the souls that think her any wrong.
Strona 253 - Where shall we our breakfast take?" "Downe in yonder greene field, There lies a knight slain under his shield. "His hounds they lie downe at his feete, So well they can their master keepe. "His haukes they flie so eagerly, There's no fowle dare him come nie.