Poetry of the English Renaissance 1509-1660John William Hebel, Hoyt Hopewell Hudson |
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Page 20
... hast mis- done Death and despair afore my face , My days decays , my grief doth grow ; The cause thereof is in this place , Whom cruelty doth still con- strain 30 And well deservėd to have blame ; Charge thou thy way so evil be- gun And ...
... hast mis- done Death and despair afore my face , My days decays , my grief doth grow ; The cause thereof is in this place , Whom cruelty doth still con- strain 30 And well deservėd to have blame ; Charge thou thy way so evil be- gun And ...
Page 24
... hast sought so long before , For thou shalt feel it sticking in thy mind , Mad , if ye list to continue your sore , Let present pass , and gape on time to come , And deep yourself in travail more and more . Henceforth , my Poins , this ...
... hast sought so long before , For thou shalt feel it sticking in thy mind , Mad , if ye list to continue your sore , Let present pass , and gape on time to come , And deep yourself in travail more and more . Henceforth , my Poins , this ...
Page 26
... hast got Of simple hearts , through love's shot ; By whom unkind thou hast them Complaint of a lover rebuked Love that liveth and reigneth. won , cry , sun . Within whose breast did boil to 26 EARLY TUDOR POETRY.
... hast got Of simple hearts , through love's shot ; By whom unkind thou hast them Complaint of a lover rebuked Love that liveth and reigneth. won , cry , sun . Within whose breast did boil to 26 EARLY TUDOR POETRY.
Page 34
... hast thou accused me ? ] London , hast thou accused me Of breach of laws , the root of strife ? To wake thy sluggards with my bow- 20 To see what hate ill - got goods win ;. Within whose breast did boil to see , So fervent hot , thy ...
... hast thou accused me ? ] London , hast thou accused me Of breach of laws , the root of strife ? To wake thy sluggards with my bow- 20 To see what hate ill - got goods win ;. Within whose breast did boil to see , So fervent hot , thy ...
Page 49
... make their glory most to stand , Yet , land , more is thy bliss that in this cruel age A Venus ' imp thou hast brought forth , so steadfast and so sage . 10 Among the Muses nine , a tenth , if Jove NICHOLAS GRIMALD 49 NICHOLAS GRIMALD.
... make their glory most to stand , Yet , land , more is thy bliss that in this cruel age A Venus ' imp thou hast brought forth , so steadfast and so sage . 10 Among the Muses nine , a tenth , if Jove NICHOLAS GRIMALD 49 NICHOLAS GRIMALD.
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Common terms and phrases
A. B. Grosart A. H. Bullen Astrophel and Stella ballad beauty Ben Jonson blood brave breast breath bright crown dance dear death delight divine dost doth earth England's Helicon English epigrams eyes face fair fame fear fire flame flowers Francis Davison George Gascoigne give glory grace Greensleeves grief hand hast hath heart heaven Hero and Leander honor Introduction and Notes J. P. Collier king kiss lady light live London look Lord love's lover Madrigals Mary Ambree mind mistress muse ne'er never night nought pain Petrarch play pleasure poems poetry poets poor praise queen rest rhyme scorn shalt shepherd shine sighs sight sing sleep smile sorrow soul spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought true unto verse weep whilst wind words youth
Popular passages
Page 288 - 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. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his...
Page 510 - Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the Muses still were in their prime, When like Apollo he came forth to warm Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm! Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines...
Page 135 - If all the world and love were young And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
Page 852 - What wondrous life in this I lead ! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine, and curious peach, Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Page 506 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere; A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, 7° Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light.
Page 510 - Yet must I not give Nature all : thy art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part, For though the poet's matter Nature be, His art doth give the fashion, and that he Who casts to write a living line must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
Page 800 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown ; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.
Page 852 - Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness: The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find ; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds and other seas, Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Page 851 - While all the flowers and trees do close To weave the garlands of repose. Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence thy sister dear! Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men: Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow: Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So am'rous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress' name; Little, alas, they know or heed How far these...
Page 865 - Let us roll all our strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one ball: And tear our pleasures with rough strife, Thorough the iron gates of life.