The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, Volume 4

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Little Brown and Company, 1855 - 406 pages
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Page 256 - Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd, Of that same time when no more change shall be, But stedfast rest of all things, firmely stayd Upon the pillours of eternity...
Page 3 - Are so exceeding spacious and wyde, And sprinckled with such sweet variety Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye, That I, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts...
Page 254 - Then, since within this wide great Universe Nothing doth firme and permanent appeare, But all things tost and turned by transverse, What then should let, but I aloft should reare My Trophee, and from all the triumph beare ? Now...
Page 419 - To her he vowd the service of his daies, On her he spent the riches of his wit; For her he made hymnes of immortall praise, Of onely her he sung, he thought, he writ.
Page 167 - But, soone as he appeared to their vew, They vanisht all away out of his sight, And cleane were gone, which way he never knew ; All save the Shepheard, who, for fell despight Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe quight, And made great mone for that unhappy turne : But Calidore, though no lesse sory wight For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne, Drew neare, that he the truth of all by him mote learne...
Page 153 - Whylest thus he talkt, the knight with greedy eare Hong still upon his melting mouth attent; Whose sensefull words empierst his hart so neare, That he was rapt with double ravishment, Both of his speach, that wrought him great content, And also of the...
Page 5 - That it indeed is nought but forgerie, Fashion'd to please the eies of them that pas, Which see not perfect things but in a glas : Yet is that glasse so gay, that it can blynd The wisest sight to thinke gold that is bras ; But vertues seat is deepe within the mynd, And not in outward shows, but inward thoughts defynd.
Page 236 - For that her face did like a lion shew, That eye of wight could not indure to view: But others tell that it so beautious was, And round about such beames of splendor threw, That it the sunne a thousand times did pass, Ne could be scene, but like an image in a glass.
Page 244 - Autumn all in yellow clad, As though he joyed in his plenteous store, Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad That he had...
Page 407 - Not so, (quoth he) Love most aboundeth there. For all the walls and windows there are writ, All full of love, and love, and love my deare, And all their talke and studie is of it. Ne any there doth brave or valiant...

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