Musa Piscatrix

Front Cover
John Lane, 1896 - English poetry - 107 pages
0 Reviews
 

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 21 - If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy Love.
Page 19 - And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle...
Page 44 - The peacock plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail. Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings, And lends the growing insect proper wings : Silks of all colours must their aid impart, And every fur promote the fisher's art...
Page 15 - Nature seem'd in love : The lusty sap began to move; Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines, And birds had drawn their valentines. The jealous Trout, that low did lie, Rose at a well-dissembled fly : There stood my friend with patient skill, Attending of his trembling quill.
Page 48 - With yielding hand, That feels him still, yet to his furious course Gives way, you, now retiring, following now Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage; Till floating broad upon his breathless side, And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore You gaily drag your unresisting prize.
Page 41 - In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade, Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead, The patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent, his angle trembling in his hand : With looks unmov'd, he hopes the scaly breed, And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.
Page 53 - Arcadian plain. Pure stream, in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave ; No torrents stain thy limpid source, No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white round...
Page 21 - A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 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 19 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Page 25 - I IN these flowery meads would be : These crystal streams should solace me; To whose harmonious bubbling noise I with my angle would rejoice. Sit here, and see the turtle-dove Court his chaste mate to acts of love; Or on that bank, feel the west wind Breathe health and plenty; please my mind. To see sweet dewdrops kiss these flowers. And then...

Bibliographic information