Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, with a Biography of Each Poet, &c, Volume 2

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H. Washbourne, 1845 - 458 pages
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Page 189 - 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 312 - Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require.
Page 306 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Page 343 - Song Go, and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me, where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil's foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing, Or to keep off envy's stinging, And find What wind Serves to advance an honest mind.
Page 51 - The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs : The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.
Page 209 - At cards for kisses, Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows...
Page 310 - 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.
Page 228 - My true love hath my heart and I have his. His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; He loves my heart, for once it was his own, I cherish his, because in me it bides. My true love hath my heart and I have his.
Page 162 - Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content ; The quiet mind is richer than a crown ; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown : Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes 6ft do miss.
Page 308 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell ALL.

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