The English Parnassus: An Anthology Chiefly of Longer PoemsWilliam Macneile Dixon, Sir Herbert John Clifford Grierson |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 100
Page 9
... cold , or moiste , or drye , And where engendred , and of what humour ; He was a verrey parfit practisour . The cause y - knowe , and of his harm the rote , Anon he yaf the seke man his bote . Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries , To ...
... cold , or moiste , or drye , And where engendred , and of what humour ; He was a verrey parfit practisour . The cause y - knowe , and of his harm the rote , Anon he yaf the seke man his bote . Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries , To ...
Page 32
... aught to your plesaunce ! And with that word he fil doun in a traunce A longe tyme ; and after he up - sterte . This Palamoun , that thoughte that thurgh his herte 710 He felte a cold swerd sodeynliche glyde , For ire 32 GEOFFREY CHAUCER.
... aught to your plesaunce ! And with that word he fil doun in a traunce A longe tyme ; and after he up - sterte . This Palamoun , that thoughte that thurgh his herte 710 He felte a cold swerd sodeynliche glyde , For ire 32 GEOFFREY CHAUCER.
Page 33
... cold swerd sodeynliche glyde , For ire he quook , no lenger wolde he byde . And whan that he had herd Arcites tale , As he were wood , with face deed and pale , He sterte him up out of the buskes thikke , And seyde : Arcite , false ...
... cold swerd sodeynliche glyde , For ire he quook , no lenger wolde he byde . And whan that he had herd Arcites tale , As he were wood , with face deed and pale , He sterte him up out of the buskes thikke , And seyde : Arcite , false ...
Page 37
... cold ; A man mot been a fool , or yong or old ; I woot it by my - self ful yore agoon : For in my tyme a servant was I oon . And therfore , sin I knowe of loves peyne , And woot how sore it can a man distreyne , As he that hath ben ...
... cold ; A man mot been a fool , or yong or old ; I woot it by my - self ful yore agoon : For in my tyme a servant was I oon . And therfore , sin I knowe of loves peyne , And woot how sore it can a man distreyne , As he that hath ben ...
Page 57
... cold of deeth , that hadde him overcome . And yet more - over , in his armes two The vital strengthe is lost , and al ago . Only the intellect , with - outen more , That dwelled in his herte syk and sore , Gan faillen , when the herte ...
... cold of deeth , that hadde him overcome . And yet more - over , in his armes two The vital strengthe is lost , and al ago . Only the intellect , with - outen more , That dwelled in his herte syk and sore , Gan faillen , when the herte ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
anon Arcite arms beauty blood breast breath brest Chaucer clouds cold coude courser dark dead death doth doun dream earth Emelye ev'ry eyes face fair fame fate fear flowers glory grace grief hand hast hath hear heart heaven herte honour Jebusites kings lady Lady of Shalott light live look lord Lycidas mind mordre Muse namore never night noght nymph o'er once Oxus Palamon pale PARNASSUS poem poet poetry praise round Rustum ryde Saturn seem'd seyde shal shee sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars sterte stood Sunne sweet swich sylphs tears Thalestris Thebes thee ther Theseus theyr thine things thou art thought thro trewely twas un-to unto up-on voice weep whan whyl whyt wind wolde words wyde youth
Popular passages
Page 368 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.— But hark!
Page 344 - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay ! Farewell, farewell!
Page 340 - But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?' Second Voice 'Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast— If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.
Page 319 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage...
Page 292 - The immeasurable height Of woods decaying, never to be decayed, The stationary blasts of waterfalls, And in the narrow rent at every turn Winds thwarting winds, bewildered and forlorn, The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side As if a voice were in them, the sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream, The unfettered clouds and region of the Heavens, Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light...
Page 319 - Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
Page 337 - My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank ; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I was so light — almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.
Page 318 - But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single Field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone : The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat : Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream...
Page 369 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, - alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.
Page 338 - They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise. The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze...