The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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Page 2 - And specially, from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende The holy blisful martir for to seke That hem hath holpen whan that they were seke.
Page 23 - Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere, To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere, Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely. For this ye knowen al so wel as I...
Page 5 - Eglentine. Ful wel she sange the service devine, Entuned in hire nose ful swetely ; And Frenche she spake ful fayre and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford atte bowe, For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe.
Page 39 - We faren as he that dronke is as a mous; A dronke man wot wel he hath an hous, But he noot which the righte wey is thider; And to a dronke man the wey is slider. And certes, in this world so faren we; We seken faste after felicitee, But we goon wrong ful often, trewely.
Page 84 - What is this world? what asketh men to have? Now with his love, now in his colde grave Allone, with-outen any companye.
Page 314 - And by his side a naked swerd hanging: And up he rideth to the highe bord. In all -the halle ne was ther spoke a word,. For mervaille of this knight; him to behold Ful besily they waiten yong and old.
Page 6 - Of court, and ben estatelich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence. But for to speken of hire conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous, She wolde wepe if that she saw a mous B 2 Caughte in a trappe, if it were ded or bledde. Of smale houndes hadde she, that she fedde With rosted flesh, and milk, and wastel brede. But sore wept she if on of hem were dede, Or if men smote it with a yerde smert: And all was conscience and tendre herte.
Page 4 - With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd in presse. Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, And wonderly deliver, and greet of strengthe.
Page 61 - First on the wall was peinted a forest, In which ther wonneth neyther man ne best, With knotty knarry barrein trees old Of stubbes sharpe and hidous to behold ; In which ther ran a romble and a swough, As though a storme shuld bresten every bough : And dounward from an hill under a bent, Ther stood the temple of Mars armii>otent, Wrought all of burned stele, of which th' entree Was longe and streite, and gastly for to see.
Page 24 - ... word, if it be in his charge, All speke he never so rudely and so large ; Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe, Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe. He may not spare, although he were his brother. He moste as wel sayn o word, as an other. Crist spake himself ful brode in holy writ, ? And wel ye wote no vilanie is it. Eke Plato sayeth, who so can him rede, The wordes moste ben cosin to the dede.

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