English Lyric Poetry, 1500-1700Frederic Ives Carpenter Blackie & son, limited, 1897 - 276 |
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A. B. Grosart Arber's Garner beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson birds blessed bliss Book of Airs bower breath bright bring the day Campion Castara clouds cuckoo dance dear death delight divine Donne dost doth E. K. Chambers earth echo ring edited Elizabethan England's Helicon EPITHALAMIUM eyes fair fairy fear flowers golden golden slumbers grace green Grosart grove happy hath hear heart heaven heavenly honour Hymen HYMN king kiss Laius leave light live look Lord Love's lovers Lullaby lyric lyric poetry Madrigals Masque merrily merry mind ne'er never night nightingale nymphs o'er pleasure Poems poetic poetry Poets praise queen reprinted roses shepherd shine sigh sing sleep smile song SONNET sorrow soul spring stars Sweet Phosphor Sweet Spirit sweetly tears thee thine things thou art Thou hast Trilla unto verse W. C. Ward waly wanton weep Whilst wind youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 223 - 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.
Strona 184 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles, Nods and Becks and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek ; 30 Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it, as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
Strona 232 - Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Strona 190 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what, though rare, of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But, O sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ! Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes, as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made hell grant what love did seek...
Strona 88 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Strona 85 - 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.
Strona 86 - 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.
Strona 81 - Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby ; Never harm, nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.
Strona 196 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who, from her green lap, throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thce with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Strona 89 - Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.