An Hymne In Honour Of Beautie (Edmund Spenser Poems)
Ah! whither, Love! wilt thou now carry mee?What wontlesse fury dost thou now inspireInto my feeble breast, too full of ...
Ah! whither, Love! wilt thou now carry mee?What wontlesse fury dost thou now inspireInto my feeble breast, too full of ...
Love, lift me up upon thy golden wingsFrom this base world unto thy heavens hight,Where I may see those admirable ...
Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,Through contemplation of those goodly sights,And glorious images in heaven wrought,Whose wondrous ...
Love, that long since hast to thy mighty powrePerforce subdude my poor captived hart,And raging now therein with restlesse stowre,Doest ...
1 Ye heavenly spirits, whose ashy cinders lie Under deep ruins, with huge walls opprest, But not your praise, the ...
A Pastorall Elegie vpon the death of the most Noble and valorous Knight, Sir Philip Sidney. Dedicated To the most ...
Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought, Through contemplation of those goodly sights, And glorious images in heaven ...
AFter so long a race as I haue run Through Faery land, which those six books copile giue leaue to ...
OPen the temple gates vnto my loue, Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the postes adorne ...
WAke now my loue, awake; for it is time, The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed, All ready to ...
AH whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too ...
YE learned sisters, which have oftentimes Beene to me ayding, others to adorne, Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull ...
CANTO IIII To sinfull house of Pride, Duessa guides the faithfull knight, Where brothers death to wreak Sansjoy doth chalenge ...
APRILL: Ægloga QuartaTHENOT & HOBBINOLL Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete? What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ...
Ah whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too ...
RVdely thou wrongest my deare harts desire, In finding fault with her too portly pride: the thing which I doo ...
Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought, Through contemplation of those goodly sights, And glorious images in heaven ...
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