Three Centuries of English Poetry: Being Selections from Chaucer to Herrick

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Macmillan and Company, 1876 - English poetry - 391 pages
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Page 269 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon. My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Page 320 - 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 329 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown...
Page 322 - Time's glory is to calm contending kings, To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light, To stamp the seal of time in aged things, To wake the morn, and sentinel the night, To wrong the wronger till he render right ; To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours, And smear with dust their glittering golden towers : 1 To fill with worm-holes stately monuments, To feed oblivion with decay of things, To blot old books, and alter their contents, To pluck the quills from ancient ravens...
Page 354 - Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet's matter Nature be, His art doth give the fashion; and, that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
Page 330 - He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
Page 386 - GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting; The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.
Page 353 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep ; Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep. Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright ! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose : Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close. Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright ! Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver ; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever : Thou...
Page 333 - Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men : Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm, And, when gay tombs are robbed, sustain no harm : But keep the wolf far thence that's foe to men ; For with his nails hell dig them up again.
Page 331 - ... the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic must All follow this and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finish'd...

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