Lyrics from the song-books of the Elizabethan age (Google eBook)

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J. C. Nimmo, 1887 - Ballads, English - 200 pages
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Page 80 - My prime of youth is but a frost of cares; My feast of joy is but a dish of pain; My crop of corn is but a field of tares; And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun; And now I live, and now my life is done.
Page 158 - When thou must home to shades of underground, And there arrived, a new admired guest, The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, White lope, blithe Helen, and the rest...
Page 58 - He said he had loved her long, She said, love should have no wrong ; Corydon would kiss her then,. She said, maids must kiss no men, Till they did for good and all ; Then she made the shepherd- call All the heavens to witness truth Never loved a truer youth. Thus with many a pretty oath, Yea and nay, and faith and troth, Such as silly shepherds use When they will not Love abuse...
Page 127 - THERE is a Lady sweet and kind, Was never face so pleased my mind; I did but see her passing by, And yet I love her till I die.
Page xvi - To hear the stories of thy finished love From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move ; Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights, Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make, Of tourneys and great challenges of knights, And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake : When thou hast told these honours done to thee, Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me.
Page 121 - THE man of life upright, Whose guiltless heart is free From all dishonest deeds Or thought of vanity: The man whose silent days In harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude, Nor sorrow discontent: That man needs neither towers Nor armour for defence, Nor secret vaults to fly From thunder's violence.
Page 80 - MY sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive Into their west, and straight again revive ; But, soon as once set is our little light, Then must we sleep one ever-during night.
Page xix - I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write. 0 Love ! they wrong thee much That say thy sweet is bitter, When thy rich fruit is such As nothing can be sweeter. Fair house of joy and bliss, Where truest pleasure is, I do adore thee : I know thee what thou art, I serve thee with my heart, And fall before thee ! Anon.
Page 90 - NOW winter nights enlarge The number of their hours, And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now the chimneys blaze, And cups o'erflow with wine. Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine. Now yellow waxen lights Shall wait on honey love, While youthful revels, masks, and courtly sights Sleep's leaden spells remove* This time doth well dispense With lovers
Page 80 - I saw the world, and yet I was not seen; My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun; And now I live, and now my life is done!

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