Relations of the Elizabethan Sonnet Sequences to Earlier English Verse: Especially that of Chaucer

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Chilton Printing Company, 1903 - 34 pages

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Page 33 - My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, To feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
Page 9 - Delia, how w'esteem the half-blown rose, The image of thy blush, and summer's honour, Whilst yet her tender bud doth undisclose That full of beauty time bestows upon her. No sooner spreads her glory in the air, But straight her wide-blown pomp comes to decline; She then is scorned that late adorned the fair; So fade the roses of those cheeks of thine. No April can revive thy withered flowers, Whose springing grace adorns thy glory now; Swift speedy time, feathered with flying hours, Dissolves the...
Page 19 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod...
Page 19 - A dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed...
Page 28 - Latinists do use: and who so euer do peruse and well consider his workes, he shall finde that although his lines are not alwayes of one selfe same number of Syllables, yet, beyng redde by one that hath understanding, the longest verse, and that which hath most Syllables in it, will fall (to the eare) correspondent unto that which hath fewest sillables in it...
Page 26 - In aged accents and untimely words, Paint shadows in imaginary lines Which well the reach of their high wits records ; But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes Authentic shall my verse in time to come, When yet th' unborn shall say, 'Lo, where she lies, Whose beauty made him speak that else was dumb.
Page 29 - And make a song of wordes but a fewe, Somwhat his woful herte for to lighte. And whan he was from every mannes sighte, 635 With softe voys he, of his lady dere, That was absent, gan singe as ye may here.
Page 8 - That lovely, arched, ivory, polished brow Defaced with wrinkles, that I might but see ; Thy dainty hair, so curled and crisped now, Like grizzled moss upon some aged tree; Thy cheek, now flush with roses, sunk and lean, Thy lips with age as any wafer thin...
Page 16 - To hatch mine eyes, and that unfitted thought Doth fall to stray, and my chiefe powres are brought To leave the scepter of all subject things ; The first that straight my fancie's...
Page 29 - Stephan1 said true, that my nativity Mischanced was with the ruler of May. He guessed (I prove) of that the verity. In May my wealth...

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