The Poetical Works of Sir Thomas WyattW. Pickering, 1831 - 244 من الصفحات |
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accuse afore Anne Boleyn assign'd Bishop of London Bishop of Rome blame cause chance COMPLAINT cruel CRUEL LOVE cruelty dear death deed desert desire disdain doth dread Earl of Essex Earl of Surrey evermore eyes faith fault favour fear feign fire fleeth forsake Fortune grace grief hand hath hear heart honest honour hope King King's Majesty LADY letters liberty live Lord Lordship LOVER COMPLAINETH lust Lute Mason mayst mercy mind MISTRESS moan never nought offence pain Patience PENITENTIAL PSALMS perdie pity plain pleasant pleasure redress rejoice sador say nay seek shame shew sighs Sir Thomas Sir Thomas Wyatt smart song sore sorrow Spain steadfast suffer sure tears thee thereof thine thing thou hast thought thyself traitor treason true trust truth unkind unto vaileth wealth ween Whereby William Hawte woful words wretched Wyatt ye know ye list
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الصفحة 111 - And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay ! And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath loved thee so long In wealth and woe among : And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay ! And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath given thee my heart Never for to depart Neither for pain nor smart : And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay...
الصفحة 31 - They flee from me, that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild, and do not remember That sometime they put themselves in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range Busily seeking with a continual change.
الصفحة 126 - ... 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, the scornful ways, The painful patience in delays, Forget not yet! Forget not! O, forget not this! — How long ago hath been, and is The mind that never meant amiss — Forget not yet!
الصفحة 18 - LOVE. FAREWELL, Love, and all thy laws for ever; Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more: Senec, and Plato, call me from thy lore, To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour...
الصفحة 142 - Her wily looks my wits did blind ; Thus as she would I did agree. But ha ! ha ! ha ! full well is me, For I am now at liberty.
الصفحة 19 - I am of them that furthest come behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer ; but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow ; I leave off therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. 'Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt As well as I, may spend his time in vain ! And graven with diamonds, in letters plain, There is written her fair neck round about; ' Noli me tangere ; for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.
الصفحة 98 - BLAME not my Lute ! for he must sound Of this or that as liketh me ; For lack of wit the Lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me ; Though my songs be somewhat strange, And speak such words as touch thy change, Blame not my Lute...
الصفحة 176 - HIS RETURN FROM SPAIN. Tagus farewell ! that westward with thy streams Turns up the grains of gold already tried ; . .. For I with spur and sail go seek the Thames Gainward the sun that showeth her wealthy pride And to the town that Brutus sought by dreams, Like bended moon that leans her lusty side ; My king, my country alone for whom I live, Of mighty Love the winds for this me give 1 ! FROM THE SECOND SATIRE.
الصفحة 108 - Is it possible? That so high debate, So sharp, so sore, and of such rate, Should end so soon, and was begun so late. Is it possible ? Is it possible ? So cruel intent, So hasty heat, and so soon spent, From love to hate, and thence for to relent...
الصفحة 29 - MY lute, awake ! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done.