Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets: Together with Some Few of Later Date, 2±Ç

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259 ÆäÀÌÁö - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
252 ÆäÀÌÁö - An old song, made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate...
66 ÆäÀÌÁö - Till, quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride, And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he died.
213 ÆäÀÌÁö - Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell.
244 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... Schools reply, Give Arts and Schools the lie. Tell Faith it's fled the city ; Tell how the country erreth ; Tell, Manhood shakes off pity, Tell, Virtue least preferreth : And if they do reply, Spare not to give the lie. So when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing, Although to give the lie Deserves no less than stabbing, Yet, stab at thee who will, No stab the Soul can kill.
279 ÆäÀÌÁö - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her. Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
254 ÆäÀÌÁö - With a new fashion'd hall, built where the old one stood, Hung round with new pictures, that do the poor no good, With a fine marble chimney, wherein burns neither coal nor wood, And a new smooth shovelboard, whereon no victuals ne'er stood ; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new study, stuft full of pamphlets, and plays, And a new chaplain, that swears faster than he prays.
180 ÆäÀÌÁö - For seven hours to all mens view This fight endured sore, Until our men so feeble grew That they could fight no more; And then upon dead horses Full savourly they eat, And drank the puddle water, They could no better get.
247 ÆäÀÌÁö - Now three weeks space to thee will I give. And that is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee.
171 ÆäÀÌÁö - He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh he might have been a King! He was a braw gallant, And he playd at the ba; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Was the flower amang them a'.

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