An Introduction to Early English Literature: From the Lay of Beowulf to Edmund Spenser

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C. W. Bardeen, 1884 - English literature - 138 pages

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Page 135 - Her modest eyes, abashed to behold So many gazers as on her do stare, Upon the lowly ground affixed are; Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, But blush to hear her praises sung so loud, So far from being proud.
Page 126 - And next in order sad Old Age we found, His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind, With drooping cheer still poring on the ground, As on the place where nature him...
Page 133 - Phoebus gins to show his glorious head. Hark, how the cheerful birds do chant their lays And carol of love's praise! The merry lark her matins sings aloft; The thrush replies; the mavis descant plays; The ouzel shrills; the ruddock warbles soft; So goodly all agree, with sweet consent, To this day's merriment.
Page 95 - God made the world; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, presently, sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways (which I will not name for the honour I bear them) so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell, till time come that I must go to Mr.
Page 97 - MERRY Margaret, As Midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon, Or hawk of the tower ; With solace and gladness, Much mirth and no madness, All good and no badness ; So joyously, So maidenly, So womanly, Her demeaning, In everything, Far, far passing, That I can indite, Or suffice to write Of merry Margaret, As Midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon Or hawk of the tower ; As patient and as still.
Page 125 - And first, within the porch and jaws of Hell, Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent With tears; and to herself oft would she tell Her wretchedness, and cursing never stent To sob and sigh; but ever thus lament, With thoughtful care, as she that, all in vain, Would wear, and waste continually in pain. Her eyes unsteadfast, rolling here and there...
Page 137 - Almighty's view. Of her, ye virgins,. learn obedience, When so ye come into those holy places, To humble your proud faces. Bring her up to th...
Page 133 - T' await the coming of your joyous make, And hearken to the birds' love-learned song, The dewy leaves among ? For they of joy and pleasance to you sing, That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring.
Page 94 - I wist, all their sport in the Park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant.
Page 54 - And though that he was worthy he was wise, And of his port as meke as is a mayde. He never yet no vilanie ne sayde In alle his lif, unto no manere wight. He was a veray parfit gentil knight.

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