Lyra Elegantiarum: A Collection of Some of the Best Specimens of Vers de Société and Vers D'occasion in the English Language by Deceased AuthorsFrederick Locker-Lampson |
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Page xiii
... speaking , come within the scope of this work . The few which are inserted possess a breadth of feeling , or a delicacy of treatment , which elevate them beyond the range of mere epigram , riddle , and parody . Some epitaphs have been ...
... speaking , come within the scope of this work . The few which are inserted possess a breadth of feeling , or a delicacy of treatment , which elevate them beyond the range of mere epigram , riddle , and parody . Some epitaphs have been ...
Page 2
... Speak without words , such words as none can tell ; Her tress also should be of crisped gold . With wit , and these , perchance , I might be tried , And knit again with knot that should not slide . Sir Thomas Wyat . III . THE SERENADE ...
... Speak without words , such words as none can tell ; Her tress also should be of crisped gold . With wit , and these , perchance , I might be tried , And knit again with knot that should not slide . Sir Thomas Wyat . III . THE SERENADE ...
Page 11
... speak had power to move thee : But I can let thee now alone , As worthy to be loved by none . I do confess thou'rt sweet , yet find Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets , Thy favours are but like the wind , That kisses everything it ...
... speak had power to move thee : But I can let thee now alone , As worthy to be loved by none . I do confess thou'rt sweet , yet find Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets , Thy favours are but like the wind , That kisses everything it ...
Page 20
... speak but little , ' cause I love so much . Robert Herrick . xxx . Ask me no more where Jove bestows , When June is past , the fading rose ; For in your beauties , orient deep , These flowers , as in their causes , sleep . Ask me no ...
... speak but little , ' cause I love so much . Robert Herrick . xxx . Ask me no more where Jove bestows , When June is past , the fading rose ; For in your beauties , orient deep , These flowers , as in their causes , sleep . Ask me no ...
Page 24
... speaking well can't win her , Saying nothing do't ? Prithee why so mute ? Quit , quit , for shame , this will not move , This cannot take her ; If of herself she will not love , Nothing can make her : The devil take her . Sir John ...
... speaking well can't win her , Saying nothing do't ? Prithee why so mute ? Quit , quit , for shame , this will not move , This cannot take her ; If of herself she will not love , Nothing can make her : The devil take her . Sir John ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alexander Pope Araminta beauty bliss blush bright Burnham-beeches captain charms cheek Chloe cried Cupid dance dear delight Derry doth e'er Earl Edmund Waller eyes fair fate fear flowers gaze give grace hand happy haste hath hear heart Heaven heigh-ho honour hour John Wolcot Jonathan Swift kind kiss lady lass laugh lips live look Lord Love's lover madam maid Matthew Prior mind morning muse ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once pain parson play pleasant pleasure poet poor pray Robert Herrick rose round shepherd sigh sing Sir John Suckling sleep smile soft song soul sure swain sweet taste tears tell There's thine thing Thomas Carew Thomas Hood Thomas Moore thou thought thro to-day to-morrow true Twas Unknown vers de société verse vex'd wife William William Cowper wine young youth
Popular passages
Page 18 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 12 - WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Page 45 - HAPPY the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.
Page 2 - HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires: As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires:— Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
Page 14 - And nearer he's to setting. That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while you may, go marry : For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
Page xx - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine ; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine.
Page 39 - Prison WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates — When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Page 183 - Life! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather ; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ; — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time ; Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.
Page 99 - Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind: Tho' fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote ; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; Though equal...
Page 22 - Time drives the flocks from field to fold When rivers rage and rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb; The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields. A honey tongue, a heart of gall Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies Soon break...