Poetical Works of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey: Minor Contemporaneous Poets, and Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst

J. W. Parker and son, 1854 - 284 Seiten

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Seite 86 - MARTIAL, the things that do attain The happy life, be these, I find : The riches left, not got with pain ; The fruitful ground, the quiet mind : The equal friend, no grudge, no strife ; No charge of rule, nor governance ; Without disease, the healthful life ; The household of continuance...
Seite 40 - THE soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale: The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her mate hath told her tale.
Seite 67 - I know she swore with raging mind, Her kingdom only set apart, There was no loss by law of kind That could have gone so near her heart ; And this was chiefly all her pain ; ' She could not make the like again.
Seite 276 - And next in order sad, Old Age we found: His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind ; With drooping cheer still poring on the ground, As on the place where nature him...
Seite 90 - A valiant corpse, where force and beauty met, Happy alas, too happy but for foes, Lived, and ran the race that nature set ; Of manhood's shape where she the mould did lose.
Seite 48 - Tuscan came my lady's worthy race, Fair Florence was sometime her ancient seat, The western isle whose pleasant shore doth face Wild Camber's cliffs did give her lively heat; Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast, Her sire an earl, her dame of princes' blood; From tender years in Britain she doth rest With king's child, where she tasteth costly food.
Seite 139 - From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of war, Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine Threatening the world with high astounding terms, And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword.
Seite 276 - By him lay heavy Sleep, the cousin of Death, Flat on the ground and still as any stone, A very corpse, save yielding forth a breath; Small keep took he whom fortune frowned on Or whom she lifted up into the throne Of high renown; but as a living death, So, dead alive, of life he drew the breath.
Seite 52 - SET me whereas the sun doth parch the green Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice; In temperate heat, where he is felt and seen; In presence prest of people, mad or wise; Set me in high, or yet in low degree; In longest night, or in the shortest day; In clearest sky, or where clouds thickest be; In lusty youth, or when my hairs are grey: Set me in heaven, in earth, or else in hell...
Seite 40 - The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes...

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