England's Helicon: A Collection of Pastoral and Lyric Poems, First Published at the Close of the Reign of Q. Elizabeth
Sir Egerton Brydges, Joseph Haslewood
T. Bensley, 1812 - English poetry - 248 pages
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beautie behold birds brest Breton chaunge Coridon craue cruell dayes death deedes delight desire deuise disdaine doeth dooth doth Earl eche Edmund Bolton Edward England's Helicon euery eyes faine faire fame fauour feare Finis flocks flowers Fortune freend Freendship giue grace graunt greefe griefe happe happy Harpalus hart hath haue heart heauen heauenly heere Helicon Henry Constable Hey hoe honour hope Ignoto ioye Jasper Heywood leaue liue Lodge Lord Lord Vaux loue louely louers Madrigals maie minde Muses neuer Nicholas Breton Nimph nought paine pastoral Phil Phillida Phillis plaste pleasure poem poetry praise proue queene reioyce saie saue shee Shep Shepheard shew sighs sing Sith Song sonne Sonnet sorrow soule sunne swaine sweet teares thee thing Thomas Lodge thou thought thrall tree tyme unto vertues vnto voyce wight winne wofull woordes wyll yeeld Yong youth
Page 214 - COME live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods or steepy mountain yields.
Page xiii - Marlow, now at least fifty years ago; and the milkmaid's mother sung an answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh, in his younger days. They were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good; I think much better than the strong lines that are now in fashion in this critical age.
Page xix - Beauty sat bathing by a spring, Where fairest shades did hide her; The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, The cool streams ran beside her. My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye To see what was forbidden, But better memory said, fie! So vain desire was chidden. Hey, nonny, nonny, &c.
Page 216 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.
Page 2 - Take me to thee, and thee to me. No, no, no, no, my dear, let be.
Page 166 - Thy grief more than death would grieve me. If that any thought in me Can taste comfort but of thee, Let me, fed with hellish anguish, Joyless, hopeless, endless languish.
Page vii - 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 xxxv - Turn I my looks unto the skies, Love with his arrows wounds mine eyes; If so I gaze upon the ground, Love then in every flower is found. Search I the shade to fly...