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appear beare beginning boke called cause collection common contents copy death doth edition Editor England English Epigrams eyes fair fall fame fortune give given grace hand hath haue head Henry Herbert History honour hope Imprinted John King knowe kynge labour Lady language late lawe learned leaves letter lines live London Lord matter mind Muses mynde never noble pain pleasure poem poetry poets praise present princes printed psalms reader rest Richard Richard Tottel sayd seems selfe shal Sheepheard shew song sure thee theyr things thinke Thomas thou thynge translated tyme unto verse volume whan whole wise wolde wood write written Young
Page xx - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village- Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Page xlv - There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart— It does not feel for man ; the natural bond Of brotherhood is severed as the flax That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
Page 18 - Which is my heritage, I will you bring; and with a ring By way of marri-age I will you take, and lady make, As shortly as I can: Thus have ye won an earl-es son And not a banished man.
Page xlv - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more...
Page 175 - Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, Refining heaven by every wink; The gods do fear whenas they glow, And I do tremble when I think: Heigh ho, would she were mine! Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud That beautifies Aurora's face, Or like the silver crimson shroud That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace: Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Page 16 - For, lyke as ye have sayed to me, In lyke wyse hardely Ye wolde answere whosoever it were, In way of company. It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde ; And so is a woman.
Page 175 - With orient pearl, with ruby red, With marble white, with sapphire blue Her body every way is fed, Yet soft in touch and sweet in view: Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! Nature herself her shape admires; The gods are wounded in her sight; And Love forsakes his heavenly fires And at her eyes his brand doth light: Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Page 236 - Wether pleasaunt, Drye, and not mysty, the wynde calme and styll, That after our houndes yournynge so meryly; Chasynge the dere ouer dale and hyll, In herynge we may folow, and to comfort the cry.