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Page 73 - Under a star-y-pointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
Page 104 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust!
Page 48 - The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.
Page 178 - I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair ; If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be...
Page 204 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Page 25 - Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow. Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Page 119 - We have left it flourishing in the middle of the field, having rooted up, or cut down, all that kept it from the eyes and admiration of the world: but after some continuance it shall begin to lose the beauty it had; the storms of ambition shall beat her great boughs and branches one against another; her leaves shall fall off, her limbs wither, and a rabble of barbarous nations enter the field and cut her down.
Page 147 - ... not with rage, While fury's flame doth burn ; It is in vain to stop the stream, Until the tide doth turn. But when the flame is out, And ebbing wrath doth end, I turn a late enraged foe Into a quiet friend.
Page 102 - Then being asked which way he would lay himself on the block, he answered, " So the heart be right, it is no matter which way the head lies.