A Fancy (Edward Dyer Poems)
Hee that his mirth hath loste, Whose comfort is dismaid,Whose hope is vaine, whose faith is scorned, Whose trust is ...
Hee that his mirth hath loste, Whose comfort is dismaid,Whose hope is vaine, whose faith is scorned, Whose trust is ...
How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth, Whether by choyce, or fate, or both!And, though so neere the ...
Marke well my heavy, dolefull tale,You loyall lovers all,And heedfully beare in your brestA gallant ladyes fall.Long was she wooed, ...
Let that time a thousand moneths endure,Which brings from heaven the sweet and silver showers,And joys the earth (of comfort ...
Let now the goodly Spring-tide make us merrie, And fields, which pleasant flowers doo adorne: And Vales, Meades, ...
Expect not (lovely Cynthia) yet from me Lines like thy fairest selfe, so ...
Januarie: ?gloga Prime. Colin Cloute.A Shepeheards boye (no better doe him call)when Winters wastful spight was almost spent,All in a ...
Guarda mi las Vaccas Carillo, por tu fe,Besa mi Primero, Yo te las guardare.I Pre-thee keepe my Kine ...
No more (o cruell Nimph,) now hast thou prayedEnough in thy revenge, proove not thine ireOn him that yeelds, the ...
Why, Disease, dost thou molestLadies? and of them the best?Do not men, ynow of ritesTo thy altars, by their nightsSpent ...
My forlorne muse that neuer trode the path That leades to top of hie Pierion mount,Nor neuer washt within the ...
Me thinks thou tak'st the worser way, (Enamoured Sheepheard) and in vaineThat thou wilt seeke thine own decay, ...
THE PROLOGUE. The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood, Upon this Friar his hearte was so wood,* *furious That ...
THE PROLOGUE. This worthy limitour, this noble Frere, He made always a manner louring cheer* *countenance Upon the Sompnour; but ...
Well Sir, 'tis granted, I said Dryden's Rhimes, Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times: What foolish Patron, is there ...
THey that in course of heauenly spheares are skild, To euery planet point his sundry yeare: in which her circles ...
A Pastorall Elegie vpon the death of the most Noble and valorous Knight, Sir Philip Sidney. Dedicated To the most ...
AFter long stormes and tempests sad assay, Which hardly I endured heretofore: in dread of death and daungerous dismay, with ...
DOe I not see that fayrest ymages Of hardest Marble are of purpose made? for that they should endure through ...
VEnemous toung tipt with vile adders sting, Of that selfe kynd with which the Furies tell theyr snaky heads doe ...
Wee falsely think it due unto our friends, That we should grieve for their too early ends: He that surveys ...
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