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Admet Anon Beaumont and Fletcher beauty beauty's birds blush breast breath Carew Castara chaste cheek Chloris court Cupid dear death delight died disdain dost doth earth Edgar Atheling English extracted eyes face fair fancy fate fear flames flowers folly FRANCIS BEAUMONT grace Greensleeves grief happy haste hath hear heart heaven honour hope Isaac Walton joys king kiss Laius language leave lips live lord lord Clarendon lov'd love's love's Cruelty lover maid MATTHEW STEVENSON melancholy mind miscellany mistress morn ne'er never night nymph o'er Oriel College passion Phillis Picts pleasure poems poet poetry pride printed reign rose Saxon scorn Scotish shew sigh sing smile SONG SONNET sorrow soul specimen spring stanzas sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought unto wanton Whilst William the Lion wind wings wouldest not love youth
Page 106 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 251 - PRISON WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Page 196 - Now the bright morning star, Day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Page 250 - 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 143 - Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale when May is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters and keeps warm her note. Ask me no more where those stars 'light That downwards fall in dead of night; For in your eyes they sit, and there Fixed become as in their sphere. Ask me no more if east or west The Phoenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at...
Page 169 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Page 176 - Poets that lasting marble seek Must carve in Latin or in Greek; We write in sand, our language grows, And, like the tide, our work o'erflows.
Page 224 - Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compared to that was next her chin. Some bee had stung it newly; But Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July.
Page 372 - scape, Rivals and Falsehood soon appear In a more dreadful shape. By such degrees to joy they come, And are so long withstood, So slowly they receive the sum, It hardly does them good. 'Tis cruel to prolong a pain; And to defer a joy, Believe me, gentle Celemene, Offends the winged boy.