The Teares of the Muses (Edmund Spenser Poems)
Rehearse to me ye sacred Sisters nine:The golden brood of great Apolloes wit,Those piteous plaints and sorrowful sad tine,Which late ...
Rehearse to me ye sacred Sisters nine:The golden brood of great Apolloes wit,Those piteous plaints and sorrowful sad tine,Which late ...
Fie on these Lydian tunes which blunt our sprightsAnd turne our gallants to Hermaphrodites:Giue me a Doricke touch, whose Semphony,And ...
My Master Bukton, when of Christ our KingWas asked, What is truth or soothfastness?He not a word answer'd to that ...
W. I will not knit before I knowe, C. Care not for long delaye: W. And so I ...
IN that so temperate Soil Arcadia nam'd, For fertile Pasturage by Poets fam'd; Stands a steep Hill, whose lofty jetting ...
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