Percy's Reliques of ancient English poetry nach der ersten ausgabe von 1765 mit den varianten der späteren originalausgaben hrsg. und mit einleitung und registern versehen, Volume 1

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Page 189 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 290 - To part with you, the same : And sure all tho, that do not so, True lovers are they none ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.
Page 483 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Page 175 - Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar, I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine My true love thou didst see. And how should I know your true love, From many another one ? O by his cockle hat, and staff, And by his sandal shoone.
Page 205 - Some have too much, yet still do crave; I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have, And I am rich with little store: They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
Page 187 - Against Sir Hugh Montgomery *So right the shaft he set, The gray goose wing that was thereon In his heart's blood was wet. This fight did last from break of day Till setting of the sun ; For when they rung the evening-bell, The battle scarce was done.
Page 70 - The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. "O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir, To sail upon the se!
Page 467 - The following is chiefly printed from an ancient black-letter copy to "the tune of Deny down." AN ancient story He tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John ; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right.
Page 175 - plaining of her pride. " Here bore him bare-faced on his bier Six proper youths and tall; And many a tear bedew'd his grave Within yon kirk-yard wall.
Page 32 - Raff the ryche Rugbe With dyntes wear beaten dowene. For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, That ever he slayne shulde be ; For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, Yet he knyled and fought on hys kne.

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