The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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C. Whittingham, 1822

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Página 197 - THE rugged forhead that with grave foresight Welds kingdomes causes and affaires of state, My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply wite, For praising love, as I have done of late, And magnifying lovers...
Página 204 - And all within, the riven walls were hung With ragged monuments of times forepast, All which the sad effects of discord sung...
Página 207 - Almightie selfe she did maligne, Because to man so mercifull he was, And unto all his creatures so benigne, Sith she her selfe was of his grace indigne ; For all this worlds faire workmanship she tride Unto his last confusion to bring, And that great golden chaine quite to divide, With which it blessed Concord hath together tide.
Página 278 - Right fit to rend the food on which he fared. His name was Care ; a Blacksmith by his trade, That neither day nor night from working spared, But to small purpose yron wedges made ; Those be Unquiet Thoughts that carefull minds invade.
Página 80 - To see so faire thinges mard and spoiled quight : And their great mother Venus did lament The losse of her deare brood, her deare delight : Her hart was pierst with pitty at the sight. When walking through the gardin them she spyde, Yet no'te...
Página 68 - Her Berth was of the wombe of morning dew, And her conception of the ioyous prime ; And all her whole creation did her shew Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime That is ingenerate in fleshly slime.
Página 198 - To her I sing of love, that loveth best, And best is lov'd of all alive, I weene ; To her this song most fitly is addrest, The Queene of love, and Prince of peace from heaven blest.
Página 268 - And wivehood true, to all that did it beare ; But whosoever contrarie doth prove, Might not the same about her middle weare, But it would loose, or else a sunder teare. Whilome it was (as Faeries wont report) Dame Venus...
Página 80 - Yet no'te she find redresse for such despight: (For all that lives is subject to that law; All things decay in time, and to their end doe draw. XLI. But were it not that Time...
Página 87 - Through th' tops of the high trees she did descry A litle smoke, whose vapour thin and light Reeking aloft uprolled to the sky : Which chearefull signe did send unto her sight That in the same did wonne some living wight.

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