A Translation Of The Nightingale Out Of Strada (William Strode Poems)
Now the declining sun 'gan downwards bend From higher heavens, and from his locks did send A milder flame, when ...
Now the declining sun 'gan downwards bend From higher heavens, and from his locks did send A milder flame, when ...
Keepe on your maske and hide your eye For in beholding you I dye. Your fatall beauty Gorgon-like Dead with ...
Faire Chloris, standing by the Fire, An amorous coale with hot desire Leapt on her breast, but could not melt ...
More Cottons yet? O let not envious Fate Attempt the Ruine of our growing State. O had it spar'd Sir ...
Loving Sister: every line Of your last letter was so fine With the best mettle, that the grayne Of Scrivener's ...
Goe and count her better houres; They more happie are than ours. The day that gives her any blisse Make ...
Keepe on your maske, and hide your eye, For with beholding you I dye: Your fatall beauty, Gorgon-like, Dead with ...
I saw fair Chloris walk alone, Whilst feather'd rain came softly down, And Jove descended from his tower To court ...
Meerly for man's death to mourne Were to repine that man was borne. When weake old age doth fall asleepe ...
Great Lady, Humble partners of like griefe In bringing Comfort may deserve beliefe, Because they Feele and Feyne not: Thus ...
Tyme's picture here invites your eyes, See with how running wheeles it flyes! These strings can do what no man ...
Love is a game at tables where the dye Of mayds affections doth by fancie fly: If once you catch ...
I know no paynt of poetry Can mend such colourd Imag'ry In sullen inke: yet Fayrford, I May relish thy ...
You that affright with lamentable notes The servants from their beef, whose hungry throats Vex the grume porter's surly conscience: ...
Stay lusty blood! where canst thou seeke So blest a seat as in her cheeke? How dar'st thou from her ...
O sing a new song to the Lord, Praise in the hight and deeper strayne; Come beare your parts with ...
Hence, hence, all you vaine delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly: Ther's nought in ...
Looke how the russet morne exceeds the night, How sleekest Jett yields to the di'monds light, So farr the glory ...
Though after Death, Thanks lessen into Praise, And Worthies be not crown'd with gold, but bayes; Shall we not thank? ...
The Sheriffe of Oxford late is grown so wise As to repreive his Beere till next assize: Alas! twas not ...
'Tis vayne to add a ring or gemme, Your eare itselfe outpasseth them. When idle words are passing here, I ...
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Denys hath merited no slender praise, In that She well supplied the Formers daies. Conceive how Good she was, whose ...
What is our life? a play of passion; Our mirth the musick of division: Our mother's wombes the tyring houses ...
When Orpheus sweetly did complayne Upon his lute with heavy strayne How his Euridice was slayne, The trees to heare ...
Whene'er the wast makes too much hast, That hast againe makes too much wast. I here stand keeper while 'tis ...
What are thy gaines, O death, if one man ly Stretch'd in a bed of clay, whose charity Doth hereby ...
Like to the rowling of an eye, Or like a starre shott from the skye, Or like a hand upon ...
Marie, Incarnate Virtue, Soule and Skin Both pure, whom Death not Life convincd of Sin, Had Daughters like seven Pleiades; ...
These dolphins twisting each on either side For joy leapt upp, and gazing there abide; And whereas other waters fish ...
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