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Adam Bell ahout ahove ancient Anglo-Saxon appears awaye ballad called castle Childe Waters copy Cotton Library daughter daye dear death doth dragon Earl edition Editor Editor's folio England English fair father fayre French Garland Gawaine gold Guenever hand harp Harper hart hast hath heare heart heen hefore heire of Linne Henry hest Hist honour hoth hring hrought John king King Arthur King Estmere knight kyng lady ladye land Lord Minstrels never nohle Percy play poem poet praye prince printed Queen quoth reader reign Rohin romance Saxon sayd saye Scotland Scots Scottish shee shold Sing slaine slayne song sonnes stanzas suhject sweet sword tahle tell thee ther thou unto willow wold word writers written wyfe wyll Wyllyam Wyth yemen youth zour
Page 82 - Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to lend, And entertains the harmless day, With a religious book or friend. This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all.
Page 264 - 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 1 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Page 58 - The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.
Page 169 - Collection, compared with another printed among some miscellaneous "poems and songs" in a book intitled, " Le Prince d'Amour," 1660, Svo. AN old song made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a greate estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ; Like an old courtier of the queen's, And the queen's old courtier.
Page 177 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her. Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Page 243 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care 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 ? George Wither.
Page 169 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ; You common people of the skies ; What are you when the moon shall rise?