Englands Helicon

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Augustine Birrell, A. B., Nicholas Ling, Hugh Macdonald
F. Etchells and H. Macdonald, 1925 - English poetry - 256 pages

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Page 11 - Take me to thee, and thee to me. No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.
Page 139 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?
Page 246 - ... that smooth song which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years ago...
Page 22 - I am. I see Calliope speede her to the place, Where my Goddesse shines ; And after her the other Muses trace, With their Violines.
Page 32 - 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, Love, which had been long deluded, Was with kisses sweet concluded ; And Phillida, with garlands gay, Was made the Lady...
Page 100 - Fair sweet, how I do love thee ! I do love thee as each flower Loves the sun's life-giving power; For dead, thy breath to life might move me. Diaphenia like to all things blessed, When all thy praises are expressed, Dear joy, how I do love thee ! As the birds do love the spring, Or the bees their careful king : Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me ! H.
Page 32 - Much ado there was, God wot, He would love, and she would not. She said, never man was true: He said, none was false to you.
Page 22 - He blusht to see another Sunne belowe, Ne durst againe his fyrye face out showe : Let him, if he dare, His brightnesse compare With hers, to have the overthrowe.
Page 24 - Now rise up, Eliza, decked as thou art In royall ray : And now ye dainty damsels may depart Each one her way. I feare I haue troubled your troupes too long : Let dame Eliza thanke you for her song. And if you come hether When damsins I gather, I will part them all, you among.
Page 140 - I'll count your power not worth a pin, Alas, what hereby shall I win, If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, Then let thy bower my bosom be ; Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee. O Cupid, so thou pity me, Spare not, but play thee.

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