The Poems of Sir Walter Raleigh: Collected and Authenticated, with Those of Sir Henry Wotton and Other Courtly Poets from 1540 to 1650G. Bell & sons, 1892 - 261 pages |
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... falling from favour . By Sir H. Wotton ; 1615 . • VI . To a Noble Friend in his Sickness . By Sir H. Wotton · • VII . On his Mistress the Queen of Bohemia . By Sir H. Wotton ; circ . 1620 VIII . Tears at the Grave of Sir Albertus Morton ...
... falling from favour . By Sir H. Wotton ; 1615 . • VI . To a Noble Friend in his Sickness . By Sir H. Wotton · • VII . On his Mistress the Queen of Bohemia . By Sir H. Wotton ; circ . 1620 VIII . Tears at the Grave of Sir Albertus Morton ...
Page vii
... falling from favour . By Sir H. Wotton ; 1615 VI . To a Noble Friend in his Sickness . By Sir H. Wotton VII . On his Mistress the Queen of Bohemia . By Sir H. Wotton ; circ . 1620 VIII . Tears at the Grave of Sir Albertus Morton , wept ...
... falling from favour . By Sir H. Wotton ; 1615 VI . To a Noble Friend in his Sickness . By Sir H. Wotton VII . On his Mistress the Queen of Bohemia . By Sir H. Wotton ; circ . 1620 VIII . Tears at the Grave of Sir Albertus Morton , wept ...
Page xxiv
... fall Of him that thought to climb full high ; - A man well known unto you all , Whose state , you see , doth stand Rawly . " & c . & c . & c . ( The first eight lines printed in four as Raleigh's own composition , in the Oxford edition ...
... fall Of him that thought to climb full high ; - A man well known unto you all , Whose state , you see , doth stand Rawly . " & c . & c . & c . ( The first eight lines printed in four as Raleigh's own composition , in the Oxford edition ...
Page 7
... fall ; Envy her sting , and spite hath left her gall ; Malice herself a mourning garment wears . That day their Hannibal died , our Scipio fell , — Scipio , Cicero , and Petrarch of our time ; Whose virtues , wounded by my worthless ...
... fall ; Envy her sting , and spite hath left her gall ; Malice herself a mourning garment wears . That day their Hannibal died , our Scipio fell , — Scipio , Cicero , and Petrarch of our time ; Whose virtues , wounded by my worthless ...
Page 10
... falls Melodious birds sing madrigals . And I will make thee beds of roses , And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of flowers , and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle ; A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty ...
... falls Melodious birds sing madrigals . And I will make thee beds of roses , And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of flowers , and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle ; A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty ...
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Common terms and phrases
Æneid Albertus Morton anonymous copy ascribed Ashm beauty bliss BOOK claimed for Raleigh Collier conceit Cynthia Davison's Poetical Rhapsody dear death delight desire despair doth Dyer Earl earth England's Helicon epitaph eyes fair faith fame fancy fear fordone Fortune's Francis Davison George Sandys grace grief Harl hast hath heart heaven Hence claimed HENRY WOTTON hope Hoskins John Heywood king light live Lord Vaux love's Metam mind Montrose Muse never night nought Oldys Ovid Oxford editors pain passion piece poem Poet praise prince printed Puttenham Queen Raleigh by Brydges Rawl rest scorn shepherd Sidney sighs signature signed Ignoto sing Sir Edward Dyer Sir H Sir Philip Sidney Sir Walter Raleigh song Sonnet sorrow soul Spenser stanza sweet Tann tears Tell thee Thomas Lodge thou thoughts unto verses verso VIII virtue words wounds youth
Popular passages
Page 40 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age and dust ; Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust.
Page xxxii - A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 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. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love.
Page 125 - Leave me, O love . . ." Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust; And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things; Grow rich in that which never taketh rust, Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings. Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be; Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light, That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
Page 123 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies ; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries...
Page 81 - 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?
Page 76 - ... eclipse and glory of her kind? CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill ! Whose passions not his masters are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame, or private breath...
Page 10 - Say to the court it glows And shines like rotten wood; Say to the church, it shows What's good, and doth no good: If church and court reply, Then give them both the lie. Tell potentates, they live Acting by others' action, Not lov'd unless they give, Not strong but by affection: If potentates reply, Give potentates the lie.
Page xxviii - Queen ; At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept, And from thenceforth those graces were not seen, For they this Queen attended ; in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse. Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed, And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce : Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief, And cursed the access of that celestial thief.
Page 105 - ... harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude, Nor sorrow discontent : That man needs neither towers Nor armour for defence, Nor secret vaults to fly From thunder's violence. He only can behold With unaffrighted eyes The horrors of the deep And terrors of the skies. Thus scorning all the cares That fate or fortune brings, He makes the heaven his book, His wisdom heavenly things, Good thoughts his only friends, His wealth a well-spent age, The earth his sober inn And quiet pilgrimage.
Page 124 - Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be ? Do they, above, love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue, there, ungratefulness?