Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry |
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Page 20
... rest . Let man then boast no more a foule , fince he Hath loft that great prerogative ; but thee ( Whom Fortune hath exempted from the herd Of vulgar men , whom Vertue hath preferr'd Farre higher than thy birth ) I must commend , Rich ...
... rest . Let man then boast no more a foule , fince he Hath loft that great prerogative ; but thee ( Whom Fortune hath exempted from the herd Of vulgar men , whom Vertue hath preferr'd Farre higher than thy birth ) I must commend , Rich ...
Page 26
... rest . My time - devouring minutes will be done Without thy help ; fee ! fee how fwift they run : Cut not my thread before my thread be spun . The gaines not great I purchase by this stay ; What lofs fuftain't thou by fo fmall delay ...
... rest . My time - devouring minutes will be done Without thy help ; fee ! fee how fwift they run : Cut not my thread before my thread be spun . The gaines not great I purchase by this stay ; What lofs fuftain't thou by fo fmall delay ...
Page 33
... rest Needleffe of help ! and may this Ifle alone Furnish all other lands , and this land none ! Brit . Paft . B. II . Song IV . 1 by W. Browne . Thomp . Edit . VOL . II . D OF OF THE COURTIER'S LIFE . MYNE own John Poines , DIDACTIC AND ...
... rest Needleffe of help ! and may this Ifle alone Furnish all other lands , and this land none ! Brit . Paft . B. II . Song IV . 1 by W. Browne . Thomp . Edit . VOL . II . D OF OF THE COURTIER'S LIFE . MYNE own John Poines , DIDACTIC AND ...
Page 38
... rest , And that without expence , when others oft With their undoings have their pleasures bought . Brit . Paft . B. II . Sang IV . by W. Browne . ELEGIES ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS . On the Death of Mrs. Elizabeth 38 DIDACTIC AND MORAL PIECES .
... rest , And that without expence , when others oft With their undoings have their pleasures bought . Brit . Paft . B. II . Sang IV . by W. Browne . ELEGIES ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS . On the Death of Mrs. Elizabeth 38 DIDACTIC AND MORAL PIECES .
Page 60
... breed , Each minute is a fhort degree , And ev'ry houre a step towards thee . At night when I betake to rest , Next morn I rife neerer my weft Of life , almost by eight houres faile , Then 4 Of 60 ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS .
... breed , Each minute is a fhort degree , And ev'ry houre a step towards thee . At night when I betake to rest , Next morn I rife neerer my weft Of life , almost by eight houres faile , Then 4 Of 60 ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS .
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Common terms and phrases
againſt alfo almoſt beauty beſt birds cauſe Comus dayes dead dear death defcribing defcription defire doth Drayton Drummond Du Bartas duft Earle earle of March earth Edit ELEGY expreffion fafe fair fame fate feems feen felf ferve fhall fhew fhine fhould fighs filent fince fing firſt flaine fleepe Fletcher flowers fome fong forrow foule fpirit ftill fubject fuch fweet glory grace grief hand hath heart Heaven himſelf honour inftances King laſt lines live loft Lond Lord Milton moft moſt Mufes muft muſt myſelf night obfervations paffage paffed paſt pleaſures Poet poetry Poly-Olbion praiſe prefent Priam profe Quarles Queen reft Robert Fitz Walter Robert Southwell rofe ſay ſhall ſhe Sonne Spenfer ſpent ſtill ſtore ſweet teares thee thefe themſelves theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought unto uſed verfes verſe Vertue whofe whoſe wiſh
Popular passages
Page 107 - Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies; When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes : Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.
Page 107 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Page 162 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Page 149 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas ! poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
Page 149 - God save him; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,— His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience,— That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Page 60 - Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake: Till age, or grief, or sickness must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Page 85 - My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it; Stands and lies by me, does what I have done; This too familiar care does make me rue it: No means I find to rid him from my breast, Till by the end of things it be supprest.
Page 36 - I cannot, I, no, no ! it will not be. This is the cause that I could never yet Hang on their sleeves that weigh, as thou mayst see, A chip of chance more than a pound of wit.
Page 21 - LIKE to the falling of a star, Or as the flights of eagles are, Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue, Or silver drops of morning dew, Or like a wind that chafes the flood, Or bubbles which on water stood : Even such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight called in and paid to-night.
Page 174 - If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune.