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Æneid aera ageyne ancient anon archery Azincourt ballads Bishop Gibson castle Chaucer chere Christ's Kirk church clere composed compositions confort doun Duke of Albany Earl England fair floure fortune France fresch furth Gavin Douglas genius goddesse grene grete gude hath hede hertis hevin humour John come kiss King Henry King James KING OF SCOTLAND King of Scots King's language lufe lytill maid melody mony mynd old Scottish Palestrina Pergolese plesance poem of Christ's poet poetical Prince qd sche Quhare Quhat quhele Quhen quhich quhile quhite quho quhy reign sall Saxon sche Scotland Scots Scottish language Scottish songs seyne sodeynly stanza stile suete suich suld taste thaire thame thay thou thy hert tion tofore trew tuke tyme Venus vnto Waly warld wele wold words zour zouth
Page 63 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state : From brutes what men, from men what spirits know : Or who could suffer being here below ? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play ? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Page 110 - At once on the eastern cliff of Paradise He lights; and to his proper shape returns A seraph wing'd : six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments divine ; the pair that clad Each shoulder, broad, came mantling o'er his breast With regal ornament ; the middle pair Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold, And colours dipt in heaven; the third his feet Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail, Sky-tinctured grain. Like Maia's son he stood, And shook...
Page 105 - OLD as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet, Which once inflamed my soul, and still inspires my wit.
Page 72 - Sen every wight has thereof suffisance, That I behold, and I a creature Put from all this — hard is myn aventure!
Page 52 - Soon brings a well-built palace down. Poets that lasting marble seek, Must carve in Latin or in Greek : We write in sand, our language grows, And, like the tide, our work o'erflows. Chaucer his sense can only boast, The glory of his numbers lost ! Years have defaced his matchless strain, And yet he did not sing in vain.
Page 73 - The long dayes and the nyghtis eke, I wold bewaille my fortune in this wise, For quhich again distresse confort to seke, My custum was on mornis for to rise Airly as day, O happy exercise ! By the come I to joye out of turment, Bot now to purpose of my first entent.
Page 83 - And other of schap like to the floure jonettis; And above all this, there was, wele I wot, Beautee eneuch to mak a world to dote.
Page 190 - Hills, where the scenes of this pastoral poem are laid, the seat of Mr. Forbes, and the resort of many of the literati at that time, I well remember to have heard Ramsay recite, as his own production, different scenes of the Gentle Shepherd, particularly the two first, before it was printed.
Page 103 - Full oft by holy feet our ground was trod, Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy. A little, round, fat, oily man of God, Was one I chiefly mark'd among the fry : He had a roguish twinkle in his eye, And shone all glittering with ungodly dew, If a tight damsel chaunc'd to trippen by ; Which when observ'd, he shrunk into his mew, And straight would recollect his piety anew.