English Poems: The Elizabethan age and the Puritan period (1550-1660)

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Walter Cochrane Bronson
University of Chicago Press, 1909
 

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第112页 - Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, 10 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle...
第120页 - When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope.
第127页 - Tu-whit, tu-who ! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
第123页 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
第120页 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
第129页 - Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
第214页 - Death, be not proud though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so, For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
第382页 - Return, Alpheus ; the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams ; return Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint...
第322页 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be ! Tell her, that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide Thou must have uncommended died.
第349页 - Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm ; Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high, lonely tower, Where I may oft...

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