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againe armes backe beare beast beautie better blood bold bore brest Britomart brought Canto cast close cruell Dame deare death deedes deepe delight doth downe dread emongst eyes faire false fayre feare fell finde fled Florimell fortune forward gentle golden goodly griefe ground hand hard hart hast hath heard heare herselfe heven hight himselfe huge Knight Ladies late least light living looke Lord meanes mighty mind mote mother never noble nought paine Paridell passe powre rest Satyrane sayd secret seeke seeme shee shortly sight Sith sleepe sonne soone sore speare spright straunge sweet tell thee things thou thought thousand Till turne unto vaine Virgin warlike wearie whiles wicked wight wood wound wretched
Strona 62 - ... quight: And their great mother Venus did lament The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight: Her hart was pierst with pitty at the sight, When walking through the Gardin them she spyde, Yet no'te...
Strona 189 - How may these rimes, so rude as doth appeare, Hope to endure, sith workes of heavenly wits Are quite devourd, and brought to nought by little bits!
Strona 152 - Woven with gold and silke so close and nere That the rich metall lurked privily, As faining to be hidd from envious eye ; Yet here, and there, and every where, un wares It shewd itselfe and shone unwillingly; Like to' a discolourd snake, whose hidden snares Through the greene gras his long bright burnisht back declares.
Strona 51 - Her Berth was of the wombe of morning dew, And her conception of the ioyous prime; And all her whole creation did her shew Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime That is ingenerate in fleshly slime.
Strona 167 - To her I sing of love, that loveth best, And best is lov'd of all alive, I weene ; To her this song most fitly is addrest, The Queene of love, and Prince of peace from heaven blest.
Strona 32 - The baser wit, whose ydle thoughts alway Are wont to cleave unto the lowly clay, It stirreth up to sensuall desire, And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day; But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire, That to all high desert and honour doth aspire, n.
Strona 63 - Right in the middest of that Paradise, There stood a stately Mount, on whose round top A gloomy grove of mirtle trees did rise, Whose shadie boughes sharpe steele did never lop, Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop, But like a girlond compassed the hight, And from their...
Strona 167 - THE rugged forhead, that with grave foresight Welds kingdomes causes and affaires of state, My looser rimes, I wote, doth sharply wite For praising love as I have done of late, And magnifying lovers...