The Minte of deformities (C G Gent Poems)
No Thrasion harpe, but a steeld furious whippe, no Nightingales, but Mandrakes shreeking sound,Adastors snakes to make these Thrasors skippe: ...
No Thrasion harpe, but a steeld furious whippe, no Nightingales, but Mandrakes shreeking sound,Adastors snakes to make these Thrasors skippe: ...
The HumiliationThe Summary of the Poem.Theophila, or Divine Love, ascends to her Belov'd by three Degrees. By Humilitie, by Zeal, ...
The RECAPITULATION.And Pourtrait of a Heav'nly breathing Soul. Whoso delights to burn in holy Fire Of Virgin fair Theophila, Joy, ...
Worldlings we court not, envy not, nor fear; May Friends to Vertue lend their Ear: While Sinners split on shelves, ...
THE VANITIE OF THE VVORLD. The Abnegation.ARGUMENT. What's potent Opulencie? What's remiss Voluptuousness? World, what's All This, To That the ...
The Inammoration.ARGUMENT. O, DEUS, aut nullo caleat mihi Pectus ab Igne! Aut solo caleat Pectus ab Igne Tui! Languet ut ...
September: ?gloga Nona. Hobbinol & Diggon Dauie.Hobbinol.Diggon Dauie, I bidde her god day: Or Diggon her is, or I missaye. ...
?neas read what Dido wrote, And sent her this replie;And sought to cure the curelesse wound,Which Dido made to die.When ...
Almightie Lord, who from thy glorious throneSeest and rulest all things ev'n as one:The smallest ant or atome knows thy ...
Hee that his mirth hath loste, Whose comfort is dismaid,Whose hope is vaine, whose faith is scorned, Whose trust is ...
June: AEgloga Sexta. HOBBINOL & COLIN Cloute.HOBBINOL.LO! Collin, here the place, whose pleasaunt syte From other shades hath weand my ...
How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth, Whether by choyce, or fate, or both!And, though so neere the ...
Secretary. Ielowsy.Ielowsy.What a world is this/I trow it be a curstFayne wold I marye/yf ye I durstBut I trow syth ...
Canst be idle? canst thou play, Foolish soul who sinn'd to-day?Rivers ...
Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones, The ...
Lament eche one the blazing fire That downe from heaven came,And burnt S. Powles his lofty spyre With ...
O Sacred Providence, who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write, And not of thee, through ...
Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace Sends up my soul to seek thy face. Thy blessed eyes breed ...
There is a thing that nothing is, A foolish wanton, sober wise; It hath noe wings, noe eyes, noe eares, ...
The first day of this month the last hath bin To that deare soule. March never did come in So ...
One day, whiles that my daylie cares did sleepe, My spirit, shaking off her earthly prison, Began to enter into ...
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