A Pageant of Elizabethan PoetryBlackie, 1906 - 412 páginas |
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... Sidney , the great love - poet of that age , and ending with Sidney , and within that circle turning as within the limits of an enchantment . The great ritual of the " Epithalamion " leads through bride - songs , dawn- songs , and ...
... Sidney , the great love - poet of that age , and ending with Sidney , and within that circle turning as within the limits of an enchantment . The great ritual of the " Epithalamion " leads through bride - songs , dawn- songs , and ...
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... Sidney . 6 A Song to the Maskers Come down and dance ye in the toil Of pleasure to a heat ; But if to moisture , let the oil Of roses be your sweat . Not only to yourselves assume These sweets , but let them fly From this to that , and ...
... Sidney . 6 A Song to the Maskers Come down and dance ye in the toil Of pleasure to a heat ; But if to moisture , let the oil Of roses be your sweat . Not only to yourselves assume These sweets , but let them fly From this to that , and ...
Página 225
... Sidney . Harden now thy tired heart , with more than flinty rage ! Ne'er let her false tears henceforth thy constant grief assuage ! Once true happy days thou saw'st when she stood firm and kind , Both as one then lived and held one ear ...
... Sidney . Harden now thy tired heart , with more than flinty rage ! Ne'er let her false tears henceforth thy constant grief assuage ! Once true happy days thou saw'st when she stood firm and kind , Both as one then lived and held one ear ...
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... Sidney . 234 Leave me , O Love , which reachest but to dust ; And thou , my mind , aspire to higher things ; Grow rich in that which never taketh rust ; Whatever fades , but fading pleasure brings . Draw in thy beams , and humble all ...
... Sidney . 234 Leave me , O Love , which reachest but to dust ; And thou , my mind , aspire to higher things ; Grow rich in that which never taketh rust ; Whatever fades , but fading pleasure brings . Draw in thy beams , and humble all ...
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... Sidney . 236 Only Joy , now here you are , Fit to hear and ease my care , Let my whispering voice obtain Sweet reward for sharpest pain ; Take me to thee , and thee to me . “ No , no , no , no , my dear , let be . " Night hath closed ...
... Sidney . 236 Only Joy , now here you are , Fit to hear and ease my care , Let my whispering voice obtain Sweet reward for sharpest pain ; Take me to thee , and thee to me . “ No , no , no , no , my dear , let be . " Night hath closed ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Anonymous Barnabe Barnes beauty beauty's behold Ben Jonson birds breath bright bring Campion Carmela Charon Claia Corydon cuckoo Daffodil dead dear death delight desire Donne dost doth Drayton earth echo ring eyes fair Fairy fairy-queen fear flowers fools give gone grace grief hair hath hear heart heaven Heigh-ho Herrick Hey-ho honour Hymen King kiss leave light little boy live livës joy look love's lovers lullaby maids merry Mertilla mind ne'er never Nicholas Breton night numbers nymphs Oberon passion Perigot Perilla Philomel Phyllida Pigwiggen pleasure poem poor praise pretty Proserpina Queen Queen Mab quoth roses scorn Shakespeare shepherd shine Sidney sighs sight sing sleep smile song sonnets soul spring stay sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thou shalt thoughts true love unto untrue Love wanton weep Whilst Willy wilt wind youth
Pasajes populares
Página 365 - Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy...
Página 362 - ... the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Página 130 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Página 355 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Página 342 - They that have power to hurt and will do none,' That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, They rightly do inherit heaven's graces And husband nature's riches from expense ; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence.
Página 242 - 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...
Página 35 - When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo...
Página 223 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest...
Página 147 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed : Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace : Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Página 23 - SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day.