Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets; Together with Some Few of Later Date, Том 3

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Thomas Percy
J.E. Moore, 1823

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Сторінка 217 - STILL to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast : Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed ; Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Сторінка 333 - True; a new Mistresse now I chase, The first Foe in the Field; And with a stronger Faith imbrace A Sword, a Horse, a Shield. Yet this Inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; I could not love thee (Deare) so much, Lov'd I not Honour more.
Сторінка 124 - At cards for kisses — Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip...
Сторінка 389 - When night and morning meet ; In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet. Her face was like an April morn, Clad in a wintry cloud ; And clay-cold was her lily hand, That held her sable shroud. So shall the fairest face appear, When youth and years are flown : Such is the robe that kings must wear, When Death has reft their crown.
Сторінка 221 - The parents being dead and gone, The children home he takes, And brings them straight unto his house Where much of them he makes. He had not kept these pretty babes A twelvemonth and a day, But, for their wealth, he did devise To make them both away.
Сторінка 225 - You that executors be made, And overseers eke Of children that be fatherless, And infants mild and meek ; Take you example by this thing, And yield to each his right, Lest God with such like miserye Your wicked minds requite.
Сторінка 175 - He turned his face unto the wall, And death was with him dealing: "Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, And be kind to Barbara Allan." And slowly, slowly raise she up, And slowly, slowly left him, And sighing said, she could not stay, Since death of life had reft him. She...
Сторінка 261 - Their dances were procession. But now, alas ! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas, Or farther for religion fled, Or else they take their ease.
Сторінка 206 - He hath of marks about him plenty: You shall know him among twenty. All his body is a fire, And his breath a flame entire, That being shot, like lightning, in, Wounds the heart, but not the skin.

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