The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield

J. B. Nichols and sons, 1876 - 243 sider

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Side xl - Lie not ; but let thy heart be true to God, Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; The stormie working soul spits lies and froth.
Side 224 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, — Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, — And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Side 100 - My deare loue with louing so, (Whom as then I did not know.) Loue I did the fairest boy, That these fields did ere enioy. Loue I did, fair Qanymed ; ( Venus darling, beauties bed ; ) Him I thought the fairest creature ; Him the quintessence of Nature...
Side xxxvii - And Shakespeare thou, whose hony-flowing Vaine, (Pleasing the World) thy Praises doth obtaine. Whose Venus, and whose Lucrece (sweete, and chaste) Thy Name in fames immortall Booke have plac't. Live ever you, at least in Fame live ever: Well may the Bodye dye, but Fame dies never.
Side 189 - Fie, fie, fie" now would she cry; "Teru, teru," by and by: That to hear her so complain Scarce I could from tears refrain, For her griefs so lively shown Made me think upon mine own. — Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in...
Side xxxvi - A mint as vertuous minde, Should I forget thy Learning or thy Loue ; Well might I be accounted but vnkinde, Whose pure affection I so oft did proue : Might my poore Plaints hard stones to pitty moue ; His losse should be lamented of each Creature, So great his Name, so gentle was his Nature.
Side 208 - My tale was heard and yet it was not told, My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green, My youth is spent and yet I am not old, I saw the world and yet I was not seen...
Side 7 - If it be sinne to loue a sweet-fac'd Boy, (Whose amber locks trust vp in golden tramels Dangle adowne his louely cheekes with ioy, When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels) If it be sinne to loue a louely Lad; Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad.
Side 187 - ... dear, whose heavenly touch Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ; Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound That Phoebus...
Side xxxix - ... Babes are blessed in their Birth : Thinke on no worldly woe, lament thy sin ; (For lesser cease, when greater griefes begin). Sweare no vaine oathes ; heare much, but little say ; Speake ill of no man, tend thine owne affaires, Bridle thy wrath, thine angrie mood delay ; (So shall thy minde be seldome cloyd with cares :) Be milde and gentle in thy speech to all, Refuse no honest gaine when it doth fall. Be not beguild with words...

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