Reliques of Ancient English Poetry: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets, Together with Some Few of Later Date, Հատոր 1

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E. Moxon, 1844
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Հաճախորդի կարծիքը  - antiquary - LibraryThing

A very famous collection that contributed largely to the fashion for balads and ultimately t the Romantic movement. It is a mixed bag, some genuinely early, some not, but important for its influence. Read full review

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Էջ 209 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against Fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Էջ 173 - The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yields: A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle...
Էջ 173 - A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love.
Էջ 192 - Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, And left thee sad and heavy ; For young men ever were fickle found, Since summer trees were leafy.
Էջ 174 - A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten ; In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps, and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.
Էջ ii - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Էջ 57 - The king has written a braid letter. And signd it wi his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick red, "O what is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir, To sail upon the se!
Էջ 209 - The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon Death's purple altar, now, See where the victor victim bleeds : All heads must come To the cold tomb : Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.
Էջ 253 - Solitude, romantic maid ! Whether by nodding towers you tread ; Or haunt the desert's trackless gloom, Or hover o'er the yawning tomb ; Or climb the Andes' clifted side, Or by the Nile's coy source abide : Or, starting from your half-year's sleep, From Hecla view the thawing deep : Or, at the purple dawn of day, Tadmor's marble wastes survey." observing,
Էջ 191 - Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar, I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine My true love thou didst see. And how should I know your true love, From many another one ? O by his cockle hat, and staff, And by his sandal shoone.

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