The poems of sir Walter Raleigh collected and authenticated with those of sir Henry Wotton and other courtly poets from 1540 to 1650, ed. with an intr. and notes by J. Hannah, Edició 830

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Pàgina 50 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age and dust ; Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust.
Pàgina 129 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies ; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries...
Pàgina 8 - A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.
Pàgina 89 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ; You common people of the skies ; What are you when the moon shall rise?
Pàgina 84 - ... eclipse and glory of her kind? CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill ! Whose passions not his masters are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame, or private breath...
Pàgina 20 - Say to the court it glows And shines like rotten wood; Say to the church, it shows What's good, and doth no good: If church and court reply, Then give them both the lie. Tell potentates, they live Acting by others' action, Not lov'd unless they give, Not strong but by affection: If potentates reply, Give potentates the lie.
Pàgina 23 - GiVE me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon, My scrip of joy, immortal diet ! My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage ! And thus I'll take my Pilgrimage!
Pàgina 21 - Then give them all the lie. Tell zeal it lacks devotion, Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it is but motion. Tell flesh it is but dust; And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie.
Pàgina 4 - Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay, Within that temple where the vestal flame Was wont to burn ; and passing by that way, To see that buried dust of living fame, Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept, All suddenly I saw the Faery Queen, At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept...
Pàgina 118 - The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves continually, As she my suit and affection: So that I am past remedy; Whereby my lute and I have done.

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