The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser in Five Volumes, Volume 5 (Google eBook)

Front Cover
W. Pickering, 1825 - English poetry
0 Reviews
  

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 137 - Sun, shew forth thy favourable ray, And let thy lifull heat not fervent be, For feare of burning her sunshyny face, Her beauty to disgrace.
Page 138 - Arysing forth to run her mighty race, Clad all in white, that seems a Virgin best. So well it her beseems, that ye would weene Some Angell she had beene.
Page 138 - Upon the lowly ground affixed are; Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud, So farre from being proud.
Page 284 - Doth rather choose to sit in idle Cell, Than so himselfe to mockerie to sell. So am I made the servant of the manie, And laughing stocke of all that list to scorne, Not honored nor cared for of anie...
Page 136 - T' awayt the comming of your joyous make, And hearken to the birds love-learned song, The deawy leaves among? For they of joy and pleasance to you sing, That all the woods them answer, and...
Page 139 - Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze, Upon her so to gaze, Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing, To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring?
Page 48 - Their joy, their comfort, their desire, their gaine, Is fixed all on that which now they see, All other sights but fayned shadowes bee.
Page 172 - Out of her course doth wander far astray; So I, whose star, that wont with her bright ray Me to direct, with clouds is overcast, Do wander now, in darkness and dismay, Through hidden perils round about me placed.
Page 141 - The more they on it stare. But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, Are governed with goodly modesty, That suffers not one look to glance awry Which may let in a little thought unsound.
Page 283 - And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made To mock her selfe, and truth to imitate, With kindly counter* under mimick shade, Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late: With whom all ioy and iolly meriment Is also deaded, and in dolour drent**.

Bibliographic information