Bell's Edition: The Poets of Great Britain Complete from Chaucer to Churchill ...

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J. Bell, 1788 - English poetry
 

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Page 75 - See the mind of beastly man, That hath so soone forgot the excellence Of his creation, when he life began, That now he chooseth with vile difference To be a beast, and lacke intelligence!
Page 199 - There in a gloomy hollow glen she found A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes In homely wize, and wald with sods around...
Page 190 - Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent Into the world, it to replenish more; Yet is the stocke not lessened nor spent,
Page 71 - Gather therefore the Rose whilest yet is prime, For soone comes age that will her pride deflowre ; Gather the Rose of love whilest yet is time, Whilest loving thou mayst loved be with equall crime. He ceast ; and then gan all the quire of birdes Their diverse notes t...
Page 189 - Gardiner to sett or sow, To plant or prune ; for of their owne accord All things, as they created were, doe grow, And yet remember well the mighty word Which first was spoken by th...
Page 66 - And in the midst of all a fountaine stood, Of richest substance that on Earth might bee, So pure and shiny that the silver flood Through every channell running one might see ; Most goodly it with curious ymageree Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boyes, Of which some seemd with lively jollitee To fly about, playing their wanton toyes, Whylest others did themselves embay in liquid joyes.
Page 54 - Which seem'd to fly for feare them to behold: Ne wonder, if these did the knight appall; For all, that here on earth we dreadfull hold, Be but as bugs to fearen babes withall, Compared to the creatures in the seas entrall. "Feare nought...
Page 34 - And, as she lookt about, she did behold How over that same dore was likewise writ, Be bolde, be bolde, and every where, Be bold ; That much she muz'd, yet could not construe it By any ridling skill, or commune wit. At last she spyde at that rowmes upper end Another yron dore, on which was writ, Be not too bold ; whereto though she did bend Her earnest minde, yet wist not what it might intend.
Page 66 - Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see, The which into an ample laver fell, And shortly grew to so great quantitie, That like a litle lake it seemd to bee; Whose depth exceeded not three cubits...
Page 62 - Mantled with greene, and goodly beautifide With all the ornaments of Floraes pride, Wherewith her mother Art, as halfe in scorne Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride Did decke her, and too lavishly adorne, When forth from virgin bowre she comes in th

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