The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser ...

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Bell and Daldy, 1866

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Page 197 - Wake now, my love, awake ! for it is time ; The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed, All ready to her silver coche to clyme ; And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious bed.
Page 201 - That al the woods should answer, and your echo ring. Open the temple gates unto my love, Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the...
Page 184 - One day I wrote her name upon the strand; But came the waves, and washed it away: Again, I wrote it with a second hand; But came the tide, and made my pains his prey. Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay A mortal thing so to immortalize; For I myself shall like to this decay, And eke my name be wiped out likewise.
Page 274 - Come softly swimming down along the Lee; Two fairer birds I yet did never see; The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew...
Page 275 - Thames, run softly, till I end my song. Then forth they all out of their baskets drew Great store of flowers, the honour of the field, That to the sense did fragrant odours yield, All which upon those goodly birds they threw, And all the waves did strew, That like old Peneus...
Page 226 - So every spirit, as it is most pure, And hath in it the more of heavenly light, So it the fairer body doth procure To habit in, and it more fairly dight, With cheerful grace and amiable sight. For, of the soul, the body form doth take, For soul is form, and doth the body make.
Page 191 - Like as the culver, on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; And, in her songs, sends many a wishful vow For his return that seems to linger late: So I alone, now left disconsolate, Mourn to myself the absence of my love; And, wand'ring here and there all desolate, Seek with my plaints to match that mournful dove.
Page 202 - Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, The pledge of all our band ? Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing, That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring.
Page 204 - Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected. That long daies labour doest at last defray, And all my cares, which cruell Love collected, Hast sumd in one, and cancelled for aye: Spread thy broad wing over my love and me, That no man may us see, And in thy sable mantle us enwrap, From feare of perrill and foule horror free.
Page 202 - With Barnaby the bright, From whence declining daily by degrees, He somewhat loseth of his heat and light, When once the Crab behind his back he sees. But for this time it ill ordained was, To chose the longest day in all the yeare...

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