The Wright’s Chaste Wife (Anonymous Olde English Poems)
Allemyghty god, maker of alle,Saue you my souereyns in towre & halle, And send you good grace!If ye wylle a ...
Allemyghty god, maker of alle,Saue you my souereyns in towre & halle, And send you good grace!If ye wylle a ...
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 ...
Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats,At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats,Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids!Unlock ...
The Turnament of Tottenham; or, the Wooeing, Winning, and Wedding of Tibbe, the Reev's Davghter There.Of all thes kene conquerours ...
Coelo Musa beat.Hor. Carm. Lib. 4. Od. 8.—Nec meus audetRem tentare pudor, quam Vires serre recusent.Hor. Ep. 1. Lib. 2.I ...
Part the FirstItt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright;And ...
It fell about the Martinmas tyde,When our Border steeds get corn and hayThe captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ...
When shawes been sheene, and shradds full fayre,And leeves both large and longe,Itt is merry, walking in the fayre forrest,To ...
Secretary. Ielowsy.Ielowsy.What a world is this/I trow it be a curstFayne wold I marye/yf ye I durstBut I trow syth ...
I.In ev'ry Town, where Thamis rolls his Tyde,A narrow pass there is, with Houses low;Where ever and anon, the Stream ...
I woulde it were not as it isOr that I cared not yea or no;I woulde I thoughte it not ...
Eclogue the First. Whanne Englonde, smeethynge from her lethal wounde, From her galled necke dyd twytte the chayne awaie, Kennynge ...
The double 12 sorwe of Troilus to tellen, That was the king Priamus sone of Troye, In lovinge, how his ...
Well Sir, 'tis granted, I said Dryden's Rhimes, Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times: What foolish Patron, is there ...
Returne my joyes, and hither bring A tongue not made to speake but sing, A jolly spleene, an inward feast, ...
One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away: Agayne I wrote ...
Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace, Seeing the game from him escapt away: sits downe to rest him in ...
'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill Appear in Writing or in Judging ill, But, of the two, ...
Part 1 WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing -- This ...
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