The night was cold, the wind was high,
And stars bespangled all the sky;
29 lines
In Virgynë the sweltrie sun gan sheene,
And hotte upon the mees did caste his raie;
91 lines, 2 comments
Somme cherisaunei 'tys to gentle mynde,
Whan heie have chevyced theyre londe from bayne ,
14 lines
SCENE I.
CELMONDE, att BRYSTOWE.
505 lines
SCENE I
MAGNUS, HURRA, and HIE PREESTE, wyth the ARMIE, neare Watchette.
465 lines
SCENE I.
BRISTOWE.
388 lines
SCENE I.
AT BRYSTOWE.
174 lines
ONNE Ruddeborne bank twa pynynge Maydens sate,
Theire teares faste dryppeynge to the waterre cleere;
54 lines
HERAWDE
THE Tournament begynnes; the hammerrs sounde;
216 lines
To JOHNE LADGATE.
WELL thanne, goode Johne, sythe ytt must needes be soe,
50 lines
THE featherd songster chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne,
391 lines
WHANNE Englonde, smeethynge from her lethal wound;
From her galled necke dyd twytte the chayne awaie,
64 lines
SPRYTES of the bleste, the pious Nygelle sed,
Poure owte yer pleasaunce onn mie fadres hedde.
87 lines
Wouldst thou kenn Nature in her better parte?
Goe, serche the logges and bordels of the hynde ;
127 lines
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
HAROLDE, bie T. Rowleie, the Aucthoure.
299 lines
BOOKE st.
WHANNE Scythyannes, salvage as the wolves theie chacde,
110 lines
O CHRYSTE, it is a grief for me to tell;
HOW manie a nobil erle and valrous knyghte
619 lines
OH Truth! immortal daughter of the skies,
Too lyttle known to wryters of these daies,
722 lines
AS onn a hylle one eve sittynge,
At oure Ladie's Chyrche mouche wonderynge,
21 lines
STAY, curyous traveller, and pass not bye,
Until this fetive pile astounde thine eye.
23 lines
THYS mornynge starre of Radcleves rysynge raie,
A true manne good of mynde and Canynge hyghte,
9 lines
ANENT a brooklette as I laie reclynd,
Listeynge to heare the water glyde alonge,
149 lines
MAIE Selynesse on erthes boundes bee hadde?
Maie yt adyghte yn human shape bee founde?
13 lines
Johne makes a jarre 'boute
Lancaster and Yorke.
3 lines
Mie boolie entes, adiewe: ne more the syghte
Of guilden merke shalle mete mie joieous eyne;
19 lines
THOROWE the halle the belle han sounde;
Byelecoyle doe the Grave beseeme;
11 lines
In days of old, when Wesley's power
Gathered new strength by every hour;
54 lines, 1 comment
Says Tom to Jack, 'tis very odd,
These representatives of God,
24 lines, 4 comments
Sharp was the frost, the wind was high
And sparkling stars bedeckt the sky
40 lines, 1 comment
Young Colin was as stout a boy
As ever gave a maiden joy;
13 lines, 1 comment
|