English Lyrics |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 17
Page 4
... pleasures past , He sails that hath in governance My life , while it will last : With scalding sighs , for lack of gale , Furthering his hope , that is his sail Toward me , the swete port of his avail . Alas ! how oft in dreams I see ...
... pleasures past , He sails that hath in governance My life , while it will last : With scalding sighs , for lack of gale , Furthering his hope , that is his sail Toward me , the swete port of his avail . Alas ! how oft in dreams I see ...
Page 13
... pleasure pass . With lullaby now take your leave , With lullaby your dreams deceive , And when you rise with waking eye , Remember then this lullaby . VII . NICHOLAS BRETON , 1542-1626 ? A PASTORAL OF GEORGE GASCOIGNE . 13.
... pleasure pass . With lullaby now take your leave , With lullaby your dreams deceive , And when you rise with waking eye , Remember then this lullaby . VII . NICHOLAS BRETON , 1542-1626 ? A PASTORAL OF GEORGE GASCOIGNE . 13.
Page 22
... pleasure by their lust , Their wisdom by their rage of will ; Their treasure is their only trust , A cloked craft their store of skill . But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind . My wealth is health and perfect ease ...
... pleasure by their lust , Their wisdom by their rage of will ; Their treasure is their only trust , A cloked craft their store of skill . But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind . My wealth is health and perfect ease ...
Page 34
... relent in deep disdain ; And death his fatal stroke shall cease , And envy pity every pain , And pleasure mourn , and sorrow smile , Before I talk of any guile . First time shall stay his stayless race , And winter 34 ENGLISH LYRICS .
... relent in deep disdain ; And death his fatal stroke shall cease , And envy pity every pain , And pleasure mourn , and sorrow smile , Before I talk of any guile . First time shall stay his stayless race , And winter 34 ENGLISH LYRICS .
Page 47
... pleasure likewise seems the shore Whereto tends all your toil , Which you forego to make it more , And perish oft the while . Who may disport them diversely Find never tedious day , And ease may have variety As well as action may ...
... pleasure likewise seems the shore Whereto tends all your toil , Which you forego to make it more , And perish oft the while . Who may disport them diversely Find never tedious day , And ease may have variety As well as action may ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
adieu Love Anthony Wood beauty BEN JONSON best fits birds blow breast breath bright brow cold County Guy Cymbeline Cynthia's Revels dead dear death delight doth earth England's Helicon eyes fancy fear fits a little flowers give gone grave hath heart heaven Honour lady leaves light live look love anew Love's lovers Lucasta lulla lullaby lyric maid Master Constable Melicertus mind morning ne'er never Nice Valour night nonny numbers o'er old familiar faces pain Phillada flouts Phillis pity poem Queen roses Sally shine sighs sight sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile SONG sorrow soul spring stars tears tell thee thine things Thomas Dekker Thomas Farnaby thou art thou dost Thou hast Thou lovest amiss thought toil unto untrue Love verse wanton waves weep William Haughton winds wings winter WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED youth
Popular passages
Page 130 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against Fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 198 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight ; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament : Her eyes as stars of twilight fair ; Like twilight's too her dusky hair ; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn ; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Page 146 - Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more.
Page 61 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Page 72 - A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. W ILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run And do run still, though still I do deplore ? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done ; For I have more.
Page 201 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Page 80 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 75 - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright! Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose: Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess, excellently bright!
Page 218 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave— For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Page 87 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity : 'Fie, fie, fie...