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Page 1 - O the exceeding grace Of highest God that loves His creatures so, And all His works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed Angels He sends to and fro To serve to wicked man, to serve His wicked foe.
Page 108 - Such as attonce might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere : Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, To read what manner musicke that mote bee ; For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonee ; Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree : LXXI. The ioyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet ; Th...
Page 2 - How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like flying pursuivant, Against foul fiends to aid us militant! They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant; And all for love, and nothing for reward: O why should Heavenly God to men have such regard ? LONDON: APPROVED SCHOOL BOOKS.
Page 108 - To th; instruments divine respondence meet ; The silver sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters fall ; The waters fall with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call ; The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.
Page 232 - ... 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...
Page 68 - But in a body which doth freely yeeld His partes to Reasons rule obedient, And letteth Her that ought the scepter weeld, All happy peace and goodly government Is setled there in sure establishment.
Page 107 - Withall she laughed, and she blusht withall, That blushing to her laughter gave more grace, And laughter to her blushing, as did fall.
Page 220 - 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.
Page 383 - 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?