The Poems of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, Band 1

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University of Washington Press, 1920 - 238 Seiten

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Seite 82 - Lord, thou chase; (Aye me! while life did last that league was tender) Tracing whose steps thou sawest Kelsall blaze, Laundersey burnt, and battered Bullen render. At Mottrel gates, hopeless of all recure, Thine Earl, half dead, gave in thy hand his will; Which cause did thee this pining death procure.
Seite 10 - How he would be a rich old man, to live and lie at rest. The rich old man that sees his end draw on so sore, How he would be a boy again, to live so much the more.
Seite 97 - Hither them secretly the Greeks withdrew, Shrouding themselves under the desert shore. And weening we they had been fled and gone, And with that wind had...
Seite 107 - For nought ye strive to save the burning town. What cruel fortune hath betid, ye see; The gods out of the temples all are fled, Through...
Seite 45 - Alas, so all thinges nowe doe holde their peace, Heaven and earth disturbed in nothing; The beastes, the ayer, the birdes their song doe cease; The nightes chare the starres aboute dothe bring. Calme is the sea, the waves worke lesse and lesse...
Seite 77 - And harder then hys ladyes syde his targe; From glotton feastes to sowldyers fare a chaunge; His helmet, far aboue a garlandes charge. Who scace the name of manhode dyd retayne...
Seite 81 - To lyve upright and smile at fortunes choyce. A hand that taught what might be sayd in ryme; That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit; A mark the which, unparfited for time, Some may approche, but never none shall hit.
Seite 79 - Laid in my quyett bedd, in study as I weare, I saw within my troubled hed a heape of thoughtes appeare; And every thought did shew so lyvelye in myne eyes, That now I sight, and then I smylde, as cawse of thought did ryse. I saw the lytle boye, in thought how ofte that he 5 Did wishe of Godd to scape the rodd, a tall yong man to be; The yong man, eke, that feeles his bones with paynes opprest, How he wold be a riche olde man, to lyve and lye att rest; The ryche olde man, that sees his end draw on...
Seite 46 - Love that doth reign and live within my thought, And built his seat within my captive breast, Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought Oft in my face he doth his banner rest. But she that taught me, love and suffer pain, My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire, With shamefast look to shadow and refrain, Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.
Seite 45 - With grene hath clad the hill, and eke the vale : The nightingale with fethers new she sings : The turtle to her mate hath told her tale...

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