An English Garner: Ingatherings from Our History and Literature, Volume 8

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A collection of rare poetry and prose.

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Page 628 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Page 548 - Fair stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry ; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Page 630 - And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Page 631 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Page 629 - Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow Through the sweetbriar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine: While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before...
Page 610 - Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do : and , behold , all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.
Page 631 - Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, 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.
Page 547 - That long there doth not live. When as the luscious smell Of that delicious land, Above the seas that flows, The clear wind throws, Your hearts to swell Approaching the dear strand.
Page 202 - All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. I will spend my days in prayer, Love and all her laws...
Page 633 - OLD King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.

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