A Pageant of Elizabethan Poetry |
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Page 6
... hair , Bedabbled with the dew . Good - morning to this primrose too , Good - morrow to each maid That will with flowers the tomb bestrew Wherein my love is laid . Ah ! woe is me , woe , woe is me , Alack and well - a - day ! For pity ...
... hair , Bedabbled with the dew . Good - morning to this primrose too , Good - morrow to each maid That will with flowers the tomb bestrew Wherein my love is laid . Ah ! woe is me , woe , woe is me , Alack and well - a - day ! For pity ...
Page 10
... hairs be crowned : Cup us , till the world go round , Cup us , till the world go round ! Shakespeare . 20 God Lyaeus , ever young , Ever honoured , ever sung , Stained with blood of lusty grapes , In a thousand lusty shapes , Dance upon ...
... hairs be crowned : Cup us , till the world go round , Cup us , till the world go round ! Shakespeare . 20 God Lyaeus , ever young , Ever honoured , ever sung , Stained with blood of lusty grapes , In a thousand lusty shapes , Dance upon ...
Page 13
... hairs with oil did shine ; And , as he spake , his mouth ran o'er with wine . Tippled he was , and tippling lisped withal ; And lisping reeled , and reeling like to fall . A young enchantress close by him did stand , Tapping his plump ...
... hairs with oil did shine ; And , as he spake , his mouth ran o'er with wine . Tippled he was , and tippling lisped withal ; And lisping reeled , and reeling like to fall . A young enchantress close by him did stand , Tapping his plump ...
Page 16
... hair and salt ; And , with the crystal humour of the spring , Purge hence the guilt and kill this quarrelling . Wo't thou not smile or tell me what's amiss ? Have I been cold to hug thee , too remiss , Too temperate in embracing ? Tell ...
... hair and salt ; And , with the crystal humour of the spring , Purge hence the guilt and kill this quarrelling . Wo't thou not smile or tell me what's amiss ? Have I been cold to hug thee , too remiss , Too temperate in embracing ? Tell ...
Page 20
... hair , Drummond . So lively Sleep doth show to inward sight , That wake I think I hold No shadow , but my fair : Myself so to deceive , With long - shut eyes I shun the irksome light . Such pleasure thus I have , Delighting in false ...
... hair , Drummond . So lively Sleep doth show to inward sight , That wake I think I hold No shadow , but my fair : Myself so to deceive , With long - shut eyes I shun the irksome light . Such pleasure thus I have , Delighting in false ...
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Common terms and phrases
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
Popular passages
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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...
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.