Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets; Together with Some Few of Later Date, Band 3F.C. and J. Rivington, 1812 |
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... litle stond . In all these old poems the same set of knights are al- ways represented with the same manners and characters : which seem to have been as well known , and as distinctly marked among our ancestors , as Homer's Heroes were ...
... litle stond . In all these old poems the same set of knights are al- ways represented with the same manners and characters : which seem to have been as well known , and as distinctly marked among our ancestors , as Homer's Heroes were ...
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... litle boy Twenty markes to his meede ; And all the time of the Christmasse 85 Willinglye to ffeede ; For why this mantle might Doe his wiffe some need . Ver . 75. lauged , MS . When When she had tane the mantle , Of cloth that 44 THE ...
... litle boy Twenty markes to his meede ; And all the time of the Christmasse 85 Willinglye to ffeede ; For why this mantle might Doe his wiffe some need . Ver . 75. lauged , MS . When When she had tane the mantle , Of cloth that 44 THE ...
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... litle dinne . Winne this mantle , ladye , And it shal be thine , If thou never did amisse Since thou wast mine . Forth came Craddockes ladye Shortlye and anon ; But boldlye to the mantle Then is shee gone . When she had tane the mantle ...
... litle dinne . Winne this mantle , ladye , And it shal be thine , If thou never did amisse Since thou wast mine . Forth came Craddockes ladye Shortlye and anon ; But boldlye to the mantle Then is shee gone . When she had tane the mantle ...
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... litle boy , That kept the mantle in hold ; Sayes , king , chasten thy wiffe , 145 Of her words shee is to bold : Shee is a bitch and a witch , And a whore bold : King , in thine owne hall Thou art a cuckold . The litle boy stoode ...
... litle boy , That kept the mantle in hold ; Sayes , king , chasten thy wiffe , 145 Of her words shee is to bold : Shee is a bitch and a witch , And a whore bold : King , in thine owne hall Thou art a cuckold . The litle boy stoode ...
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... litle knive Of iron and of steele ; He britled the bores head Wonderous weele ; That every knight in the kings court Had a morssell . The litle boy had a horne , 175 Of red gold that ronge : 180 He said , there was noe cuckolde Shall ...
... litle knive Of iron and of steele ; He britled the bores head Wonderous weele ; That every knight in the kings court Had a morssell . The litle boy had a horne , 175 Of red gold that ronge : 180 He said , there was noe cuckolde Shall ...
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ancient awaye ballad Barbara Allen Bevis black-letter bower brest bride bright castle Childe Waters Chivalry clubb Cotton Library dame daughter daye deare death distichs doth dragon Editor's folio Ellen eyes fair Annet Fairies father fell foot-page France French gentle George Gill Morice gold grone Guenever gyant hand hart hast hath head heart Honi soit intitled King Arthur kisse knight lady ladye land Library litle little Musgrave lord Barnard lord Thomas maid mantle manye Margret merry miller Mordred never noble old Romance Pepys Collection poem Poetry praye prince printed copy queene quoth quoth hee sayd sayes shee shew shold sir Gawaine Sir Kay Sir Lybius song sonne sore stanzas steede story sweet William sword tale teares tell thee thou true love unkle unto Whan wife WITCH wold zour
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 254 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Seite 219 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free; Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all th...
Seite 126 - At cards for kisses — Cupid paid ; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; Loses them too ; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how) ; With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin : All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love ! has she done this to thee ? What shall, alas ! become of me...
Seite 393 - So shall the fairest face appear When youth and years are flown; Such is the robe that kings must wear When death has reft their crown.
Seite 302 - HE that loves a rosy Cheek, Or a coral Lip admires ; Or from star-like Eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires : As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away ! But a smooth and steadfast Mind, Gentle Thoughts, and calm Desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires ! Where these are not ; I despise Lovely Cheeks ! or Lips ! or Eyes...
Seite 337 - Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Seite 243 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Seite 265 - Mary's days On many a grassy plain. But since of late Elizabeth, And, later, James came in, They never danced on any heath, As when the time hath bin.
Seite 126 - ... paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me? THE SONGS OF BIRDS What bird so sings, yet so does wail? O 'tis the...