Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, |
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Page 65
Tell me , dearest , what is love ? ” ' Tis a lightning from above ; ' Tis an arrow , ' tis
a fire ; ' Tis a boy they call Desire ; ' Tis a grave Gapes to have Those poor fools
that long to prove . 6 . Tell me more , are women true ? ” Yes , some are , and ...
Tell me , dearest , what is love ? ” ' Tis a lightning from above ; ' Tis an arrow , ' tis
a fire ; ' Tis a boy they call Desire ; ' Tis a grave Gapes to have Those poor fools
that long to prove . 6 . Tell me more , are women true ? ” Yes , some are , and ...
Page 171
May it not be sharp - sighted then , as well , And see you know that which it durst
& not tell , And from 9 that knowledge , hope so it may Tell itself ' ' a louder way ?
A . Let it " alone a while : And " 3 so , thou may ' st beguile My heart , perhaps ...
May it not be sharp - sighted then , as well , And see you know that which it durst
& not tell , And from 9 that knowledge , hope so it may Tell itself ' ' a louder way ?
A . Let it " alone a while : And " 3 so , thou may ' st beguile My heart , perhaps ...
Page 172
Then , to be able 8 to speak sense Were an offence : And , ' twill thy passion tell
the subtlest way , Not to know what to say . ” WILLIAM STRODE Was born about
1600 , and died in. 1 “ not . " 2 « powerful secret . ” 3 “ There needs . ” 4 « Only ” is
...
Then , to be able 8 to speak sense Were an offence : And , ' twill thy passion tell
the subtlest way , Not to know what to say . ” WILLIAM STRODE Was born about
1600 , and died in. 1 “ not . " 2 « powerful secret . ” 3 “ There needs . ” 4 « Only ” is
...
Page 446
I must alledge , and thou canst tell . Gascoigne . II , 178 . I must not grieve my love
, whose eyes would read . Da . niel . II , 320 . I never stoop ' d so low as they .
Donne . II . 385 . I never yet could see that face . Cowley . III . 285 . I once may
see ...
I must alledge , and thou canst tell . Gascoigne . II , 178 . I must not grieve my love
, whose eyes would read . Da . niel . II , 320 . I never stoop ' d so low as they .
Donne . II . 385 . I never yet could see that face . Cowley . III . 285 . I once may
see ...
Page 453
Tell me , dearest , what is love . Beaumont and Fletcher . III . 65 . Tell me not of
joy ! there ' s none . Cartwright . III . 234 Tell me not , sweet , I am unkind .
Lovelace . HI . 275 . Tell me , Utrechia , since my fate . Carew . III . 170 . Tell me ,
where is ...
Tell me , dearest , what is love . Beaumont and Fletcher . III . 65 . Tell me not of
joy ! there ' s none . Cartwright . III . 234 Tell me not , sweet , I am unkind .
Lovelace . HI . 275 . Tell me , Utrechia , since my fate . Carew . III . 170 . Tell me ,
where is ...
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Common terms and phrases
Anon appear beauty birds born breath bring called cause Charles College court dear death delight desire died doth early earth English epigrams extracted eyes face fair fancy fate fear fire flame flowers give gone grace grief grow hand happy hath hear heart heaven hope joys king language learning leave less light live look lord Love's lover mind morning move Muses Nature ne'er never night once Oxford passion perhaps plays pleasure poems poet poor praise printed prove published reign rest rose scorn seems sense sighs sing smile SONG soon sorrow soul specimen spring star stay sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou thought thousand true volume Whilst wind wings Wood youth
Popular passages
Page 244 - WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Page 31 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Page 278 - 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.
Page 275 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Page 277 - Prison 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.
Page 194 - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
Page 132 - 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.
Page 85 - I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair! If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve! If she slight me, when I woo, I can scorn, and let her go! For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be?
Page 222 - Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Page 63 - Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
Bibliographic information
| Title | Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, Volume 3 of Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, George Ellis |
| Author | George Ellis |
| Edition | 4 |
| Publisher | Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1811 |
| Original from | the University of Michigan |
| Digitized | 21 Sep 2007 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |