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, Volum 1

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L.A. Lewis, 1839
 

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Pàgina cx - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Pàgina 253 - Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together ; Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care : Youth like summer morn, Age like winter weather ; Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short, Youth is nimble, age is lame. Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold ; Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Pàgina 234 - Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.
Pàgina 332 - Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to lend, And entertains the harmless day, With a religious book or friend. This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all.
Pàgina 306 - Content I live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; I press to bear no haughty sway; Look, what I lack my mind supplies. Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring.
Pàgina 208 - My mother had a maid call'd Barbara : She was in love ; and he she lov'd prov'd mad, And did forsake her : she had a song of " willow ;" An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she died singing it...
Pàgina 252 - Crabbed age and youth cannot live together Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare; Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; O, my love, my love is young!
Pàgina 282 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Pàgina 235 - 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.
Pàgina 234 - With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love.

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