To The Right Worshipfull Sir William Mohun Knight (John Sharrock Poems)
If Maroes Muse, if Homers sacred vaine, (VVhich auncient Poets, intombed lye in molde) Parnassus Nimphes had bett into my braine If that ...
If Maroes Muse, if Homers sacred vaine, (VVhich auncient Poets, intombed lye in molde) Parnassus Nimphes had bett into my braine If that ...
[Skelton Laureate agaynste a comely Coystrowne that curyowsly chawntyd And curryshly cowntred, And madly in hys Musykkys mokkyshly made, Agaynste ...
Lade, helpe. Jhesu, merce.Timor mortis conturbat me.Dred of deth, sorrow of synTrobils my hert full greuysly.My soule hit nyth with ...
To yow, my purse, and to noon other wightComplayne I, for ye be my lady dere!I am so sory, now ...
SPI EZEROTO…ot Pencho Slaveikov,publikuvano v "Syn za Shtastie" 1958Spi ezeroto; belostvoli bukinad nego svozhdat viti granki,i v tihite mu tymni ...
In Ioyows Iulii, quhen the flouris suete,Degesteable engenered throu the heet,Baith erbe and froyte, busk and bewis, braidHaboundandlye in euiry ...
Yong Wallace, fulfillit of hie curage,In prys of armys desirous and sauage,Thi Waslage may neuir be forlorn,Thi deidis ar knawin ...
(VITA NOBILISSIMI DEFENSORIS SCOTIE WILELMI WALLACE MILITIS)Book IOur antecessowris that we suld of reideAnd hald in mynde, thar nobille worthi ...
In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,And leves be large and long,Hit is full mery in feyre foreste To here ...
Part 10 PROLOGUE TO CHAUCER'S TALE OF SIR THOPAS Bihoold the murye ...
At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scofft, Ffor that a romping wench was shee—"Now marke this rede," they bade her oft, ...
Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn,— Lie in my arms and dinna greit;Long time been past syn I kenned ...
I. 1. Youre two eyn will sle me sodenlyI may the beaute of them not sustene,So wendeth it thorowout my ...
To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight Complayne I, for ye be my lady dere! I am so ...
Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;Like as a lyttel deere you ben ...
Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;Like as a lyttel deere you ben ...
Syn I fro love escaped am so fat, I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene; Syn I am ...
Thus Ioue, myne owne maystresses allTo (Chryst) I comende you, that sytteth on hyeUnto whom my prayers, I (Offre) shallThat ...
At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scofft, Ffor that a romping wench was shee-- "Now marke this rede," they bade her ...
Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn,-- Lie in my arms and dinna greit; Long time been past syn I ...
Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken, Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken; Like as a lyttel deere ...
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