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 2

L.A. Lewis, 1839

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Pàgina 335 - 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 336 - An old song, made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate...
Pàgina 339 - With a new-fashion'd hall, built where the old one stood, Hung round with new pictures that do the poor no good ; With a fine marble chimney, wherein burns neither coal nor wood, And a new smooth shovel-board, whereon no victuals ne'er stood ; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new study stuft full of pamphlets and plays...
Pàgina 344 - WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Pàgina 332 - The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth. " The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about.
Pàgina 345 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Pàgina 330 - Abbot of Canterburye ; How for his house-keeping, and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne. An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day ; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about.
Pàgina 231 - WHEN captaines couragious, whom death cold not daunte, Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt, They mustred their souldiers by two and by three, And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree.
Pàgina 333 - fore our fader the pope. Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day ; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.
Pàgina 332 - How soone he may ride this whole world about: And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke.

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