Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language,Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1811 |
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31 ÆäÀÌÁö
... plays , in which , says he , " I have had either an entire hand , or at " least a main finger . " Of these , however , only 24 remain , for a catalogue of which , as well as his other works , re- course may be had to the Biographia ...
... plays , in which , says he , " I have had either an entire hand , or at " least a main finger . " Of these , however , only 24 remain , for a catalogue of which , as well as his other works , re- course may be had to the Biographia ...
52 ÆäÀÌÁö
... play . Thy strains to hear , old Chamus from his cell Comes guarded with an hundred Nymphs around ; An hundred Nymphs , that in his rivers dwell , About him flock with water - lilies crown'd : For thee the Muses leave their silver well ...
... play . Thy strains to hear , old Chamus from his cell Comes guarded with an hundred Nymphs around ; An hundred Nymphs , that in his rivers dwell , About him flock with water - lilies crown'd : For thee the Muses leave their silver well ...
54 ÆäÀÌÁö
... plays with the naked Graces . But seeing fate my happy wish refuses , Let me alone enjoy my low estate , Of all the gifts that fair Parnassus uses , Only scorn'd poverty and Fortune's hate Common I find to me and to the Muses ; But with ...
... plays with the naked Graces . But seeing fate my happy wish refuses , Let me alone enjoy my low estate , Of all the gifts that fair Parnassus uses , Only scorn'd poverty and Fortune's hate Common I find to me and to the Muses ; But with ...
56 ÆäÀÌÁö
... play ; And of all Love's joyful flame I the bud and blossom am . Only bend thy knee to me , Thy wooing shall thy winning be ! See , see the flowers that below Now as fresh as morning blow , And of all the virgin rose , That as bright ...
... play ; And of all Love's joyful flame I the bud and blossom am . Only bend thy knee to me , Thy wooing shall thy winning be ! See , see the flowers that below Now as fresh as morning blow , And of all the virgin rose , That as bright ...
58 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Their willow locks abroad , and all the day With their own watery shadows wanton play , Dares not those high amours and love - sick songs assay . SIR JOHN BEAUMONT , Descended of an ancient Leicestershire family 58 GILES FLETCHER .
... Their willow locks abroad , and all the day With their own watery shadows wanton play , Dares not those high amours and love - sick songs assay . SIR JOHN BEAUMONT , Descended of an ancient Leicestershire family 58 GILES FLETCHER .
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Admet ALPHEUS FELCH Anon Beaumont and Fletcher beauty beauty's Biographia Dramatica birds born breast breath Carew Castara chaste Chloris Corpus Christi College court Cupid dear death delight died disdain dost doth earth Edgar Atheling English Exeter College extracted eyes fair fancy fate fear flame Fletcher flowers folly FRANCIS BEAUMONT GILES FLETCHER grace grief happy hath hear heart heaven honour John Hall joys king kiss Laius language leave lips live lord lov'd Love's Love's cruelty lover maid MATTHEW STEVENSON melancholy mind miscellany mistress morning Muses ne'er never night nymph o'er Oxford passion Phillis Picts pleasure poems poet poetry praise pride printed reign rose Saxon says Wood scorn sighs sing smile SONG SONNET sorrow soul spring stanzas star sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought unto wanton weep Whilst wind wings youth
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244 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?
31 ÆäÀÌÁö - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
278 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
275 ÆäÀÌÁö - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
277 ÆäÀÌÁö - Prison WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates — When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
194 ÆäÀÌÁö - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
132 ÆäÀÌÁö - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
85 ÆäÀÌÁö - I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair! If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve! If she slight me, when I woo, I can scorn, and let her go! For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be?
222 ÆäÀÌÁö - Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
63 ÆäÀÌÁö - Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.