Sir Ralph Willoughby, an historical tale, by the author of Coningsby [signed S.E.B.].

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Page 16 - To have thy asking, yet wait many years ; To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares ; To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs ; To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.
Page 54 - Who first my Muse did lift out of the flore, To sing his sweet delights in lowlie...
Page 15 - 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, To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 83 - Muses pupillage; Through whose large bountie, poured on me rife In the first season of my feeble age, I now doe live bound yours by vassalage; (Sith nothing ever may...
Page 16 - 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 today, to be put back tomorrow; To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow; To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 13 - Virgil and Ariosto had thus written poetry, to teach the world moral virtue and political wisdom. He attempted to propitiate Lord Burghley, who hated him and his verses, by setting before him in a dedication sonnet, the true intent of his— " Idle rimes ; The labour of lost time and wit unstaid; Yet if their deeper sense he inly weighed, And the dim veil, with which from common view Their fairer parts are hid, aside be laid, Perhaps not vain they may appear to you.
Page 83 - MOST Noble Lord, the pillor of my life, And Patrone of my Muses pupillage ; Through whose large bountie, poured on me rife In the first season of my feeble age, I now doe live bound yours by vassalage...
Page 99 - Yet brave ensample of long passed days, In which true honour ye may fashion'd see, To like desire of honour may ye raise, And fill your mind with magnanimity. Receive it, Lord, therefore as it was meant, For honour of your name and high descent. ES To the...
Page 54 - To sing his sweet delights in lowly lays; Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore His goodly image living evermore In the divine resemblance of your face ; Which with your virtues ye embellish more, And native beauty deck with heavenly grace : For his, and for your own especial sake, Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth1 to take.
Page 140 - Of the wilde fruit, which salvage soyl hath bred, Which being through long wars left almost waste, With brutish barbarisme is overspredd : And in so faire a land, as may be redd, Not one Parnassus, nor one Helicone Left for sweete Muses to be harboured, But where thy selfe hast thy brave mansione ; There in deede dwel faire Graces many one.

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