Spenser

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Macmillan, 1906 - Poets, English - 188 pages

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Page 116 - I that was wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure cheeks, like a nymph; sometime sitting in the shade like a Goddess; sometime singing like an angel; sometime playing like Orpheus. Behold the sorrow of this world! Once amiss, hath bereaved me of all.
Page 153 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, Are all but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruin'd tower.
Page 5 - Fit to deck maidens' bowers, And crown their paramours Against the bridal day, which is not long : Sweet Thames ! run softly, till I end my song. There in a meadow by the river's side A flock of nymphs I chanced to espy...
Page 144 - Why then should witlesse man so much misweene, That nothing is, but that which he hath seene ? What, if within the moones fayre shining spheare, What, if in every other starre unseene Of other worldes he happily should heare ? He wonder would much more ; yet such to some appeare.
Page 6 - Hercules' two pillars standing near Did make to quake and fear. Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry, That fillest England with thy triumph's fame, Joy have thou of thy noble victory, And endless happiness of thine own name That promiseth the same: That through thy prowess and victorious arms, Thy country may be freed from foreign harms; And great...
Page 122 - I have followed all the antique poets historicall: first Homere, who in the persons of Agamemnon and Ulysses hath ensampled a good governour and a vertuous man, the one in his Ilias, the other in his Odysseis...
Page 98 - But vaine it is to thinke, by paragone Of earthly things, to judge of things divine : Her power, her mercy, and her wisdome, none Can deeme, but who the Godhead can define. Why then do I, base shepheard, bold and blind, Presume the things so sacred to prophane ? More fit it is t' adore, with humble mind, The image of the heavens in shape humane.
Page 5 - Thames, run softly, till I end my song. At length they all to merry London came, To merry London, my most kindly nurse, That to me gave this life's first native source, Though from another place I take my name, An house of ancient fame. There when they came, whereas those bricky towers The which on Thames...
Page 102 - Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ; Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound That Phoebus...
Page 122 - The generall end therefore of all the booke is to fashion a gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline...

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