Spenser. Book i of The faery queene, ed. by G.W. Kitchin

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Page 5 - At last resolving forward still to fare, Till that some end they finde, or in or out, That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare, And like to lead the labyrinth about...
Page 51 - THE noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought, And is with child of glorious great intent, Can never rest, untill it forth have brought Th' eternall brood of glorie excellent.
Page 28 - The Lyon would not leave her desolate, But with her went along, as a strong gard Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard: Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward, And when she wakt, he wayted diligent, With humble service to her will prepard: From her faire eyes he took commandement, And ever by her lookes conceived her intent.
Page 114 - Come, come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight, Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart, Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright. In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part ? Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art?
Page 26 - Yet she, most faithfull Ladie, all this while Forsaken,- wofull, solitarie mayd, Far from all peoples preace, as in exile, In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd, To seeke her knight ; who, subtily betrayd Through that late vision which th' Enchaunter wrought, Had her abandond.
Page 15 - BY this the northerne wagoner had set His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre That was in Ocean waves yet never wet, But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre: And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill Had warned once, that Phoebus...
Page 6 - Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke: The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde, Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke, And perill without show; therefore your stroke, Sir knight, with-hold, till further tryall made.
Page xxv - SIR, knowing how doubtfully all allegories may be construed, and this booke of mine, which I have entituled the Faery Queene...
Page 166 - Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate; Sad Acheron, of sorrow, black and deep; Cocytus, named of lamentation loud Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon, Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.
Page 27 - O how can beautie maister the most strong, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong ! Whose yielded pryde and proud submission, Still dreading death, when she had marked long, • Her hart gan melt in great compassion; And drizling teares did shed for pure affection. "The lyon, lord of everie beast in field...

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