The complete works in verse and prose of Edmund Spenser. Ed. with a new life and a glossary, by A.B. Grosart, 4. cilt

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Sayfa xcii - Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be; And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet, Tempers her words to trampling horses
Sayfa lxiv - And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made To mock her selfe, and Truth to imitate, With kindly counter under Mimick shade, Our pleasant Willy, ah ! is dead of late : With whom all joy and jolly meriment Is also deaded, and in dolour drent.
Sayfa 139 - Then what ye do, albe it good or ill. All night therefore attend your merry play, For it will soone be day : Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing; Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring.
Sayfa 134 - Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, The pledge of all our band ! Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing, That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring.
Sayfa xcii - By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot; Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed. And that you know, I envy you no lot Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss, Hundreds of years you STELLA'S feet may kiss.
Sayfa 61 - Love most aboundeth there. For all the walls and windows there are writ, All full of love, and love, and love my deare, And all their talke and studie is of it.
Sayfa cv - A sweet attractive kinde of grace, A full assurance given by lookes, Continuall comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospell bookes ; I trowe that countenance cannot lie Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.
Sayfa xcvi - Virtue, (if not a god) yet God's chief part, Be thou the knot of this their open vow, That still he be her head, she be his heart, He lean to her, she unto him do bow: Each other still allow:* Like oak and mistletoe, Her strength from him, his praise from her do grow. In which most lovely train,* O Hymen, long their coupled joys maintain.
Sayfa xcii - Stella think not that I by verse seek fame, Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee; Thine eyes my pride, thy lips my history: If thou praise not, all other praise is shame. Nor so ambitious am I, as to frame A nest for my young praise in laurel tree*: In truth I swear, I wish not there should be Graved* in mine epitaph a poet's name...
Sayfa 127 - And let them eeke bring store of other flowers To deck the bridale bowers. And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread, For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along, And diapred lyke the discolored mead.

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