Spenser and the Faery Queen

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Wiley, 1847 - 246 pages

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Page 7 - Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is, in suing long to bide ; To lose good days that might be better spent : To waste long nights in pensive discontent ; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow ; To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow...
Page 76 - The lion would not leave her desolate, But with her went along, as a strong guard Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard ; Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward; And, when she waked, he waited diligent, With humble service to her will prepared : From her fair eyes he took commandement, And ever by her looks conceived her intent.
Page 41 - What thou art, we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Page 74 - And laid her stole aside : her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven, shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place; Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.
Page 44 - Crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead, as living, ever him ador'd : Upon his shield the like was also scor'd, For soveraine hope which in his helpe he had.
Page 31 - AND is there care in heaven ? and is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is...
Page 9 - Fulke Greville, servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sidney.
Page 41 - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Page 53 - A little lowly hermitage it was, Down in a dale, hard by a forest's side, Far from resort of people, that did pass In travel to and fro : a little wide There was...
Page 19 - Fair is my love, when her fair golden hairs With the loose wind ye waving chance to mark ; Fair, when the rose in her red cheeks appears; Or in her eyes the fire of love does spark.

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