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Adam Bell agayne ancient Anglo-Saxon appears archar arrowe awaye ballad Bards baron called Cange castle Cloudesle Comedy composed copy curious daughter daye deare doth Douglas Earl Earl of Northumberland Editor Edom English Erle fair fast fayre folio French Garland Geoffrey of Monmouth hand harp harper hart hath Henry Henry VIII Hist honour Ibid Joculator John King knight kyng Estmere lady ladye Little John lord mentioned Minstrels mither myght never noble Norman conquest Northumberland Otterbourn Percy Perse play poem poet poetry prince printed Queen quoth reader reign rhymes Robin Hood romances Saxon sayd saye Scotland Scots Scottish Shakspeare shee sing slayne song sonnes stanzas syr Cauline thee ther theyr thou thow thre Tyll unto Vide Warton whan willow wold word writers wyfe wyll Wyllyam Wyth yemen yerely zour
Page cxx - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Page 330 - 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 255 - Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together ; Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care: Youth like summer morn, Age like winter weather ; Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short, Youth is nimble, age is lame : Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold ; Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Page 306 - Content I live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway; Look, what I lack my mind supplies. Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring.
Page 284 - 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 237 - 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.
Page 236 - With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love.
Page 252 - Grew frantick mad ; for in his mind He bore the wounds of woe : Which made him rend his milk-white locks, And tresses from his head. And all with blood bestain his cheeks, With age and honour spread...
Page 285 - Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late, They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death.