Sir Cauline (Anonymous Olde English Poems)
The First Part.In Ireland, ferr over the sea,There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;And with him a yong and comlye knighte,Men call ...
The First Part.In Ireland, ferr over the sea,There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;And with him a yong and comlye knighte,Men call ...
On yonder hill a castle standes,With walles and towres bedight,And yonder lives the Child of Elle,A younge and comely knighte.The ...
August: ?gloga Octaua. Willye. Perigot. Cuddie.Willye.Ell me Perigot, what shalbe the game, Wherefore with myne thou dare thy musick matche? ...
Farewell (sweet Cooke-ham) where I first obtain'dGrace from that Grace where perfit Grace remain'd;And where the Muses gaue their full ...
Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awayeYe poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a merrie ...
You beauteous ladyes, great and small,I write unto you one and all,Whereby that you may understandWhat I have suffered in ...
Marke well my heavy, dolefull tale,You loyall lovers all,And heedfully beare in your brestA gallant ladyes fall.Long was she wooed, ...
When Troy towne had, for ten yeeres 'past',Withstood the Greekes in manfull wise,Then did their foes encrease soe fast,That to ...
Madame,VVhil'st that, for which all vertue now is sold, And almost every vice, almightie gold,That which, to boote with hell, ...
Let the mayors daughter of Lin, God wott,He chose her to his wife,And thought with her to have lived in ...
Januarie: ?gloga Prime. Colin Cloute.A Shepeheards boye (no better doe him call)when Winters wastful spight was almost spent,All in a ...
Taurisius. The cause why that thou doo'st denie To looke on ...
Sheepheard, who can passe such wrong, And a life in woes so deepe?Which to live is ...
Iesu, swete sone dere!On porful bed list thou here,And that me greveth sore;For thi cradel is ase a bere,Oxe and ...
Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a ...
Meerly for man's death to mourne Were to repine that man was borne. When weake old age doth fall asleepe ...
Dawson the Butler's dead: Although I think Poets were ne'er infusde with single drinke Ile spend a farthing muse; some ...
Weep not because this childe hath dyed so yong, But weepe because yourselves have livde so long: Age is not ...
SHE fell away in her first ages spring, Whil'st yet her leafe was greene, and fresh her rinde, And whil'st ...
THe rolling wheele that runneth often round, The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare: and drizling drops that ...
If I could ever write a lasting verse, It should be laid, deare Sainte, upon thy herse. But Sorrow is ...
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