The Oxford Treasury of English Literature...: Old English to Jacobean

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Page 302 - Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell.
Page 294 - When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope.
Page 290 - Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess ? — Do they call "virtue
Page 307 - Turtle-dove or pelican : If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be ? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love ? Or her well-deserving known Make me quite forget mine own ? Be she with that goodness blest Which may merit name of best...
Page 100 - Of court, and been estatlich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence. But, for to speken of hir conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous, She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
Page 281 - That al the woods may answere, and their eccho ring. Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes, And blesseth her with his two happy hands, How the red roses flush up in her cheekes, And the pure snow, with goodly vermill stayne Like crimsin dyde in grayne : That even th...
Page 297 - If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ; 6 Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound That Phoebus...
Page 298 - WEEP you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven's sun doth gently waste! But my sun's heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets ; Doth not the sun rise smiling, When fair at even he sets? Rest you then, rest, sad eyes ! Melt not in weeping, While she lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping.
Page 202 - Now, ever alake! my master dear, I fear a deadly storm! I saw the new moon late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
Page 105 - Up-on his feet, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf, That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte; Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte; And this figure he added eek ther-to, That if gold ruste, what shal iren do?

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