The poetical works of sir Thomas Wyatt. The text ed. by C.C. Clarke1879 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 38
Page 11
... waste . OF LOVE , FORTUNE , AND THE LOVER'S MIND . 5 LOVE , Fortune , and my mind which do remember Eke that is now , and that , that once hath ben , Torment my heart so sore , that very often I hate and envy them beyond all measure ...
... waste . OF LOVE , FORTUNE , AND THE LOVER'S MIND . 5 LOVE , Fortune , and my mind which do remember Eke that is now , and that , that once hath ben , Torment my heart so sore , that very often I hate and envy them beyond all measure ...
Page 24
... waste ; And end that I have now begun : And when this song is sung and past , My lute ! be still , for I have done . 2 As to be heard where ear is none ; As lead to grave in marble stone ; My song may pierce her heart as soon . Should ...
... waste ; And end that I have now begun : And when this song is sung and past , My lute ! be still , for I have done . 2 As to be heard where ear is none ; As lead to grave in marble stone ; My song may pierce her heart as soon . Should ...
Page 25
... , my lute ! this is the last Labour , that thou and I shall waste ; And ended is that we begun : Now is this song both sung and past ; My lute ! be still , for I have done . THE LOVER REJOICETH THE ENJOYING OF HIS LOVE . 1 ODES . 25.
... , my lute ! this is the last Labour , that thou and I shall waste ; And ended is that we begun : Now is this song both sung and past ; My lute ! be still , for I have done . THE LOVER REJOICETH THE ENJOYING OF HIS LOVE . 1 ODES . 25.
Page 29
... waste my words ; Nought moveth you my deadly moan , But still you turn it into bordes . " 1 ' Fet : ' Fetch . - Bordes : ' Jests . 4 I speak not now to move your heart , ODES . 29 The Lover Complaineth himself Forsaken He Rejoiceth the ...
... waste my words ; Nought moveth you my deadly moan , But still you turn it into bordes . " 1 ' Fet : ' Fetch . - Bordes : ' Jests . 4 I speak not now to move your heart , ODES . 29 The Lover Complaineth himself Forsaken He Rejoiceth the ...
Page 32
... waste ; For dread to fall , I stand not fast . THE LOVER REJOICETH AGAINST FORTUNE THAT BY HINDERING HIS SUIT HAD HAPPILY MADE HIM FORSAKE HIS FOLLY . 1 IN faith I wot not what to say , Thy chances been so wonderous , Thou , Fortune ...
... waste ; For dread to fall , I stand not fast . THE LOVER REJOICETH AGAINST FORTUNE THAT BY HINDERING HIS SUIT HAD HAPPILY MADE HIM FORSAKE HIS FOLLY . 1 IN faith I wot not what to say , Thy chances been so wonderous , Thou , Fortune ...
Other editions - View all
The Poetical Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt. the Text Ed. by C. C. Clarke Sir Thomas Wyatt No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
aileth Anne Boleyn art thou assign'd blind breast Busiris cause CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE cruel dark dear death deed desert desire despair disdain divine dost dread Earl of Essex earth EDWARD YOUNG eternal evermore eyes fair faith fate fault fear feel feign fire flame fleeth Forget Fortune Gainward glory gold grace grief hand hast hath hear heart heaven hope immortal Lady live look Lord Lorenzo love for love LOVER lust Lute mercy mind never Night Thoughts nought o'er offence pain Patience pity plain pleasant pleasure praise say nay seek sighs sight sing Sir Thomas Wyatt smart smile song sore sorrow soul steadfast sure tears thee thine thing Thou shalt Thy majesty thyself trust truth unkind unto waste wealth weens Whereby whereof wind wise withouten woful words wretched Wyatt ye list Young
Popular passages
Page 10 - Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves and re-resolves; then dies the same.
Page 27 - That sometime they have put themselves in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking with a continual change. Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise Twenty times better; but once...
Page xxvi - Silence and darkness ! solemn sisters! twins From ancient night, who nurse the tender thought! To reason, and on reason build resolve (That column of true majesty in man,) Assist me : I will thank you in the grave ; The grave, your kingdom : there this frame shall fall A victim sacred to your dreary shrine.
Page xxvi - Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause, An awful pause ! prophetic of her end.
Page 24 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Page 2 - And is it in the flight of threescore years To push eternity from human thought, And smother souls immortal in the dust ? A soul immortal, spending all her fires, Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, Thrown into tumult, raptur'd or alarm'd, At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
Page 10 - Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread : But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where past the shaft no trace is found. As from the wing no scar the sky retains, The parted wave no furrow from the keel, So dies in human hearts the thought of death : E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
Page xxviii - What can preserve my life ? or what destroy ? An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave ; Legions of angels can't confine me there.
Page 208 - Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream Of glory on the consecrated hour Of man, in audience with the Deity.
Page 16 - I am of them that furthest come behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer ; but as she fleeth afore, Fainting I follow : I leave off therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt As well as I, may spend his time in vain : And graven with diamonds in letters plain, There is written her fair neck round about : " Noli me tangere ; for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.