The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser: With Memoir and Critical Dissertations, Volume 3

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J. Nichol, 1859
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Page xix - I see before me the gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low ; And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him ; he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Page 59 - Right fit to rend the food on which he fared. His name was Care ; a blacksmith by his trade, That neither day nor night from working spared, But to small purpose yron wedges made ; Those be unquiet thoughts that carefull minds invade.
Page ix - ... of every climate. Oranges may grow wild in it; myrrh may be met with in every hedge ; and if he thinks it proper to have a grove of spices, he can quickly command sun enough to raise it. If all this will not furnish out...
Page 196 - In vain therefore dost thou now take in hand To call to count, or weigh his works anew, Whose counsels...
Page vi - Of allegory properly handled, judiciously subdued, seen only as a shadow or by suggestive glimpses, and making its nearest approach to truth in a not obtrusive and therefore not unpleasant appositeness, the Undine of De La Motte Fouque is the best, and undoubtedly a very remarkable specimen.
Page viii - The Laurel, meed of mighty conquerors And poets sage, the Fir that weepeth still, The Willow, worn of forlorn paramours, The Yew obedient to the bender's will, The Birch for shafts, the Sallow for the mill, The...
Page 49 - IT hath been through all ages ever seen, That with the praise of arms and chivalry The prize of beauty still hath joined been; And that for reasons...
Page 196 - Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all; Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought, For whatsoever from one place doth fall Is with the tide unto another brought : For there is nothing lost, that may be found if sought.
Page 273 - NOUGHT under Heaven so strongly doth allure The sense of man, and all his mind possess, As Beauty's love-bait.
Page 197 - Or weigh the thought that from mans mind doth flow But if the weight of these thou canst not show, Weigh but one word which from thy lips doth fall : For how canst thou those greater secrets know, That doest not know the least thing of them all ? Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.

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