The Beginnings of English Literature

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Page 186 - At cards for kisses — Cupid paid. He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves and team of sparrows : Loses them too ; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how) ; With these the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin — All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes. — She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love, has she done this to thee ? What shall, alas ! become of me ? 6 SPRING'S WELCOME What bird...
Page 154 - O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence Cum sailing to the land. O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi thair gold kems in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair.
Page 155 - OI hae killed my hauke sae guid, Mither, mither, OI hae killed my hauke sae guid, And I had nae mair bot hee O. '. Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, Edward, Edward, Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, My deir son I tell thee O.
Page 136 - But atte laste, with muchel care and wo, We fille acorded by us selven two. He yaf me al the bridel in myn hond, To han the governance of hous and lond, And of his tonge, and of his hond also, And made hym brenne his book anon right tho. And whan that I hadde geten unto me By maistrie, al the soveraynetee, And that he seyde, "myn owene trewe wyf, Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf, Keepe thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat," After that day we hadden never debaat.
Page 137 - Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede; This was the olde opinion, as I rede. I speke of manye hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see none elves mo.
Page 151 - In that Lond, ne in many othere bezonde that, no man may see the Sterre transmontane, that is clept the Sterre of the See, that is unmevable, and that is toward the Northe,. that we clepen the "Lode Sterre.
Page 134 - And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth ; But yet I hadde alwey a coltes tooth.
Page 4 - The barbarians drive us to the sea ; the sea drives us back to the barbarians : between them we are exposed to two sorts of death; we are either slain or drowned.
Page 184 - My great travail so gladly spent, Forget not yet ! Forget not yet when first began The weary life ye know, since whan The suit, the service none tell can ; Forget not yet ! Forget not yet the great assays, The cruel wrong...

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