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appear Aret beauty behold Ben Jonson blood Born breast breath bright Canterbury Tales Chaucer Cleora Corb court David Lyndsay death delight Died dost doth drama Dryden Duch Duchess of Malfi Duke Earl earth English English poetry eyes fair fame fancy father fear flowers genius give Gorboduc grace grief hand hast hath hear heart heaven Hengo honour Hudibras Jonson king kiss lady language Layamon leave Leost Leosthenes light live look Lord maid Makyne mind Mirror for Magistrates Muse nature ne'er never night noble nymph o'er passion poem poet poetical poetry praise prince queen quoth racter Saxon Scotland Shakspeare shine sight sing song sorrow soul speak Spenser spirit Surrey sweet taste tears tell thee thine things thou art thought tragedy twas unto verse wanton whilst youth
Page 126 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Page 42 - 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 259 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Page 264 - Mortals, that would follow me, Love Virtue ; she alone is free. She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her.
Page 75 - Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Page 259 - Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint. Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. Her face was...
Page 41 - Come, sleep ! O sleep, the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, Th...
Page 306 - Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms ; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Page 306 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages cursed; For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfix'd in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace; A fiery soul, which, working out, its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-inform'd the tenement of clay.
Page 156 - ASK ME No MORE ASK me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. 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...