The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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C. Whittingham, 1822 - Classical poetry

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Page 126 - That was right goodly and pleasaunt to sight, I sie where there came singing lustily, A world of ladies; but, to tell aright Their...
Page 126 - That she kepte, whose heavenly figured face So pleasaunt was, and her wele shape person, That of beauty she past hem everichon. And more richly beseene, by many fold She was also in every...
Page 132 - As harpes, pipes, lutes, and sautry A lle in greene; and on their heades bare Of divers floures made full craftely All in a sute goodly chapelets they ware; And so dauncing into the mede they fare. In mid the which they found a tuft that was All oversprad with floures in compas.
Page 126 - The names now ; and everich on her head A rich fret of gold, which without dread Was full of stately riche stones set, And every lady had a chapelet On her head of branches fresh and grene, So wele wrought and so marvelously That it was a noble sight to sene...
Page 148 - Suffise unto thy good though it be small, For horde hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse, Prease hath envy, and wele is blent over all, Savour no more than thee behove shall, Rede well thy selfe that other folke canst rede, And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.
Page 124 - I was ware of the fairest medler tree, That ever yet in all my life I sie, As full of blossomes as it might be, Therein a goldfinch leaping pretile Fro bough to bough; and, as him list, he eet Here and there of buds and floures sweet.
Page 19 - And anone, as I the day espide, No lenger would I in my bed abide, But unto a wood that was fast by, I went forth alone boldely, And held the way downe by a...
Page 124 - Where she sat in a fresh grene laurer tree, On the further side even right by me, That gave so passing a delicious smell, According to the eglentere full well. Whereof I had so inly great pleasure, That, as me thought, I surely ravished was Into Paradise, where my desire Was for to be...
Page 20 - And the river that I sate upon, It made such a noise as it ron, Accordaunt with the birdes armony, Me thought it was the best melody That might ben yheard of any mon.
Page 136 - See ye not her that crowned is" (quoth she) " All in white ?" — " Madame" (quoth I) " yes :" " That is Diane, goddesse of chastite, And for because that she a maiden is, In her hond the braunch she beareth this, That agnus castus men call properly...

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