An English Garner: Ingatherings from Our History and Literature, Том 4Edward Arber Arber, 1882 |
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An English Garner: Ingatherings from Our History and Literature, Том 4 Edward Arber Полный просмотр - 1882 |
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answered Archbishop Beauty Beauty's Bishop Bishop of BATH Busses Calais called Captain Castle cause commanded Council Court death delight desire despair divers doth Duke Duke of GUISE ELIZABETH enemy England English excellent eyes fair favour fear fire fishermen French gate Gentleman Grace grief Guisnes harquebussiers hath hear heart heaven Hollanders honour hope JOHN JOHN DOWLAND JOHN RAWLINS King Lady live Lord Lord Chamberlain Love's Majesty's Major-General MORGAN Marshal TURENNE Master Mind thou never night nought Nymphs pageant pain Passions pleasure poor praise pray Prince prison prove Queen Queen's Majesty quoth RAWLINS Renegadoes rest sent shew ship sighs sing Sir HENRY BEDINGFIELD Sir JOHN GAGE soldiers Song sorrow STEPHEN GARDINER sweet tell thee thereof things thought town true Turks unto virtues Wherefore wherein wished woman women words worthy Yarmouth
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Стр. 45 - His golden locks Time hath to silver turned; O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing ! His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain; youth waneth by increasing: Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees; And lovers...
Стр. 619 - WEEP you no more, sad fountains ; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven's sun doth gently waste! But my Sun's heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets; Doth not the sun rise smiling When fair at even he sets? Rest you then, rest, sad eyes! Melt not in weeping, While she lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping.
Стр. 28 - If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the love be great 'twist 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...
Стр. 498 - SO now is come our joyful'st feast; Let every man be jolly, Each room with ivy leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry. Now, all our neighbours...
Стр. 577 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die, because a woman's fair ? Or make pale my cheeks with care, 'Cause another's rosy are ? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be...
Стр. 500 - Which may be ours another day ; And therefore let's be merry. The client now his suit forbears, The prisoner's heart is eased. The debtor drinks away his cares, And for the time is pleased. Though others...
Стр. 46 - And lovers' sonnets turned to holy psalms, A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees, And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms: But though from court to cottage he depart, His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart. And when he saddest sits in homely cell, He'll teach his swains this carol for a song, — ''Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well, Curst be the souls that think her any wrong.
Стр. 47 - Cupid's shaft, like destiny, Doth either good or ill decree. Desert is born out of his bow, Reward upon his foot doth go. What fools are they that have not known That Love likes no laws but his own ! My songs they be of Cynthia's praise I wear her rings on holidays, On every tree I write her name, And every day I read the same.
Стр. 454 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Стр. 144 - And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What are these which are arrayed in white robes ? and whence came they ? And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said unto me, These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.