The Liberall Arts Kneeling To The King (Francis Kynaston Poems)
Musicke. Phobus gave me my voyce, which pleasant Thrushes ...
Musicke. Phobus gave me my voyce, which pleasant Thrushes ...
Renowned Empresse, and great Britaines Queene,Most gratious Mother of succeeding Kings;Vouchsafe to view that which is seldome seene,A Womans writing ...
Not to know vice at all, and keepe true state, Is vertue, and not Fate:Next, to that vertue, is to ...
Thou art not, Penshurst, built to envious show, Of touch, or marble; nor canst boast a rowOf polish'd pillars, or ...
When heapes of heauie hap, had fild my harte right full, And sorrow set forth pensiuenes, my ioyes away ...
Till now I doubted whether love, or sight Of thy dear beauties (Cynthia) ...
Must I beleeve (sweet Cynthia) that the flame Hath light, and heat had ...
O Spitefull bitter thought!Bitterly spitefull thought! Couldst thou inventSo high a torture? Is ...
What sweetnesse is in fruits, in Nectorine, Peach, cherry, apricocke, those lips of ...
And art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove, When I am ...
Forgive me Cynthia, if (as Poets use, When they some divine Beauty would ...
A.Attend yee Youngones/and learne Understandinge. B. Beare-fauor to the Loue/that she in you may haue plantinge. C. Com to the ...
Good Reader yeld thy listing earelet hart and minde be prest,For thinges right wondrous thou shalt heareand learne to choose ...
I threatned to observe the strict decree Of my deare God with all my power and might: ...
My words and thoughts do both expresse this notion,That Life hath with the sun a double motion.The first Is straight, ...
The sixt Olympiad to thy coasts doth bring Thy wishd Sunbeam and makes ...
O Sacred Providence, who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write, And not of thee, through ...
Behold this little volume here inrolde: 'Tis the Almighty's present to the world: Hearken earth's earth; each sencelesse thing can ...
Here is paper, pen, and inke, That your heart and seale may sinke Into such markes as may expresse A ...
THe glorious portraict of that Angels face, Made to amaze weake mens confused skil: and this worlds worthlesse glory to ...
If I could ever write a lasting verse, It should be laid, deare Sainte, upon thy herse. But Sorrow is ...
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