The History of English Poetry, from the Close of the Eleventh to the Commencement of the Eighteenth Century: To which are Prefixed, Three Dissertations: 1. Of the Origin of Romantic Fiction in Europe. 2. On the Introduction of Learning Into England. 3. On the Gesta Romanorum
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Page 48 - And first within the porch and jaws of Hell Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent With tears: and to herself oft would she tell Her wretchedness, and cursing never stent...
Page 5 - And where heretofore there hath been great diversity in saying and singing in churches within this realm, some following Salisbury use, some Hereford use, some the use of Bangor, some of York, and some of Lincoln, now from henceforth all the whole realm shall have but one use.
Page 289 - In our forefathers tyme, whan Papistrie, as a standyng poole, couered and ouerflowed all England, fewe bookes were read in our tong, sauyng certaine bookes of Cheualrie, as they sayd, for pastime and pleasure, which, as some say, were made in Monasteries, by idle Monkes or wanton Chanons: as 'one for example, Morte Arthure...
Page 53 - With, visage grim, stern looks, and blackly hued; In his right hand a naked sword he had, That to the hilts was all with blood imbrued; And in his left, that kings and kingdoms rued, Famine and fire he held, and therewithal He razed towns and threw down towers and all.
Page 86 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Page 229 - If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the love be great "twixt thee and me, Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. 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 62 - Non frondi verdi, ma di color fosco; Non rami schietti, ma nodosi e 'nvolti; Non pomi v'eran, ma stecchi con tosco.
Page 65 - Quando leggemmo il disiato riso Esser baciato da cotanto amante, Questi, che mai da me non fia diviso, La bocca mi baciò tutto tremante : Galeotto fu il libro e chi lo scrisse : Quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante.
Page 66 - Before the gates there sat On either side a formidable Shape. The one seem'd woman to the waist, and fair, * But ended foul in many a scaly fold Voluminous and vast, a serpent arm'd With mortal sting.