What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
aboue agayne ageyne ahoute anone Arrous ayene boke brest chere cleped couth cronike daie dede deuise doth doughter drede eche ensample euery exemplum fader fals father full ofte fynde goddes goodly goth grace Grekes hart hast hath haue hede hefell heleue herde herte hest heuen honde hoth hym selfe ioye kepe kynde kynge lady leue loke londe lorde loue lust lustie lyke maie maketh maner mote netheles neuer night nothyng nought ouer pitee praide quene quod rede saith saue sayd seke sene sette shal shulde sigh Skelton slepe sondrie sonne sorowe spede speke stant stede stode stonde swete tale theyr thilke thou shalt thought thynge tofore toke tolde trouth tyme Unto vertue vnder vnto vpon whan Wherof whilom wise wist witte wolde woll wordes worlde wote wrought wyll yere yeue yonge
Page 447 - Gascoigne had been on intimate terms, had his portrait in her hands (his "counterfayt," as he calls it), and resolving to part with it to himself alone, wrote a letter to him on the subject, which fell into the hands of his enemies in the camp ; from this paper they meant to have raised a report unfavourable to his loyalty ; but upon its reaching his hands Gascoigne, conscious of his fidelity, laid it immediately before the prince, who saw through their design, and gave him passports for visiting...
Page 481 - Sing lullaby, as women do, Wherewith they bring their babes to rest, And lullaby can I sing too As womanly as can the best. With lullaby they still the child, And if I be not much beguiled, Full many wanton babes have I Which must be stilled with lullaby.
Page xxi - ... our old poet Gower in a more advantageous point of view than that in which he has hitherto been usually seen. I know not if any even among the French poets themselves, of this period, have left a set of more finished sonnets : for they were probably written when Gower was a young man, about the year 1350. Nor had yet any English poet treated the passion of love with equal delicacy of sentiment, and elegance of composition.
Page xviii - This poem, which bears no immediate reference to the other two divisions, is a dialogue between a lover and his confessor, who is a priest of Venus, and, like the mystagogue in the PICTURE of Cebes, is called Genius. Here, as if it had been impossible for a lover not to be a good catholic, the ritual of religion is applied to the tender passion, and Ovid's Art of Love is blended with the breviary. In the course of the confession, every evil affection of the human heart, which may tend to impede the...
Page 321 - Surrey, we are surprised to find nothing of that metaphysical cast which marks the Italian poets, his supposed masters, especially Petrarch. Surrey's sentiments are for the most part natural and unaffected ; arising from his own feelings, and dictated by the present circumstances*. His poetry is alike unembarrassed by learned allusions, or elaborate conceits. If our author copies Petrarch, it is Petrarch's better manner : when he descends from his Platonic abstractions, his refinements of passion,...
Page 325 - The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale : The busy bee her honey now she mings ; Winter is worn that was the flowers
Page 447 - ... before the prince, who saw through their design, and gave him passports for visiting the lady at the Hague: the burghers, however, watched his motions with malicious caution, and he was called in derision *' The Green Knight." Although disgusted with the ingratitude of those on whose side he fought, Gascoigne still retained his commission, till the prince, coming personally to the siege of Middleburg, gave him an opportunity of displaying his zeal and courage, when the prince rewarded him with...
Page 272 - Chaucer, whan ye mete, As my disciple and my poete. For in the floures of his youth, In sondry wise, as he well couth, Of dittees and of songes glade, The which he for my sake made, The lond fulfilled is over all, Wherof to him in speciall Above all other I am most holde.
Page 295 - In earnest and in game, She was much to blame! Disparaged is her fame, And blemished is her name, In manner half with shame.