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" Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will... "
The Book of Rubies: A Collection of the Most Notable Love-poems in the ... - Página 28
1866 - 384 páginas
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Eclectic Magazine: Foreign Literature, Volume 2;Volume 65

1865
...two verses of the song entitled " Rosaline's Madrigal" — " Love in my bosom, like a bee Doth snck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now...he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast, Mv kisses arc his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest ; Oh, wanton, will ye ? " What if I beat...
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Festival of Song: A Series of Evenings with the Poets

Frederick Saunders - 1866 - 376 páginas
...love-lyrics of the olden time, is that entitled Rosalind's Madrigal, by LODGE. Here it is : — Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now...feast, And yet he robs me of my rest : Ah, wanton, will ye ? And if I sleep, there percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee, The livelong...
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Paul Pendril: Or, Sport and Adventure in Corsica

Edward William Lewis Davies, Paul Pendril - 1866 - 304 páginas
...horsemen, lightly accoutred, swung into their saddles, and were off for the Gravone. 92 CHAPTER V. Love in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now...with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes bis nest, His bed amidst my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my...
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Histoire de la littérature anglaise, Volume 1

Hippolyte Taine - 1866
...sat on a tree, And laught that pleasant sight to sce. (M.) 2. Rosalind'i madrigal. Love in my besom like a bee Doth suck his sweet. Now with his wings he plays with me Now with his feet. Withïn my cyes he makes his rest, His bed amid my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast. And...
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Melodies and Madrigals: Mostly from the Old English Poets

Richard Henry Stoddard - 1866 - 206 páginas
...is, and quiet. BYRD'S SONGS. ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL. LOVE in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his fweet ; No'w with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his neft, His bed amidft my tender breaft; My kiffes are his daily feaft, And yet he robs me of my reft....
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Studies in English: Or, Glimpses of the Inner Life of Our Language

Maximilian Schele de Vere - 1867 - 365 páginas
...classic writers, think of the god Amor, and thus say : " Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck Ais sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet." — Lodge's Rosalind's Madrigal. A beautiful use of attributed gender occurs in connection with the...
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The British Quarterly Review, Volume 42

Henry Allon - 1865
...known. We will therefore rather quote two rcrses of the song entitled ' Rosaline's Madrigal ' — ' Love in my bosom, like a bee Doth suck his sweet ; Now...plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes ho makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs...
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THE DRAMATIC WORKS AND POEMS OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE

SAMUEL WLLER SINGER, F.S.A. - 1871
...' Rosalynd's Madrigal,' arid are not unworthy of a place even in a page devoted to Shakspeare: Love m ye ? And if I sleep, then percheth he The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string He...
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A Library of Poetry and Song: Being Choice Selections from the Best Poets

William Cullen Bryant - 1871 - 789 páginas
...be constant while we can, — You can be no more, you know. ROBERT BURNS. ROSALIND'S COMPLAINT. LOVE s by, like a shadow o'er the heart, With sorrow where...no more, my lady, &c. Theheadmustbow, andtheback wi nie of my rest : Ah ! wanton, will you ? And if I sleep, then pierceth he With pretty slight, And makes...
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History of English literature, tr. by H. van Laun, Volume 1

Hippolyte Adolphe Taine - 1871
...ones says the following verses, simpering, and we can even see now the pouting of her lips : ' Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet. Now with...wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within my eyes he makes his rest, His bed amid my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast. And yet he...
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