Early English poems, Chaucer to Pope

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159 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 honor more.
164 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.
129 ÆäÀÌÁö - An ambassador is an honest man, sent to lie abroad for the good of his country.
193 ÆäÀÌÁö - Sometimes with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the chequered shade, And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday...
125 ÆäÀÌÁö - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
64 ÆäÀÌÁö - As it fell upon a day, In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made...
260 ÆäÀÌÁö - Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
225 ÆäÀÌÁö - Honour but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think, it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee!
196 ÆäÀÌÁö - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
68 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.

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