Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will... Chaucer, 1400, to Beaumont, 1628 - الصفحة 323المحررون: - 1819عرض كامل - لمحة عن هذا الكتاب
| Henry Allon - 1865 - عدد الصفحات: 534
...known. We will therefore rather quote two rcrses of the song entitled ' Rosaline's Madrigal ' — ' Love in my bosom, like a bee Doth suck his sweet ;...plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes ho makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs... | |
| William Shakespeare - 1871 - عدد الصفحات: 544
...called ' Rosalynd's Madrigal,' arid are not unworthy of a place even in a page devoted to Shakspeare: illiam ? And if I sleep, then percheth he The livelong night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string He music... | |
| William Cullen Bryant - 1871 - عدد الصفحات: 968
...'11 be constant while we can, — You can be no more, you know. ROBERT BURNS. ROSALIND'S COMPLAINT. y goes by, like a shadow o'er the heart, With sorrow...no more, my lady, &c. Theheadmustbow, andtheback wi nie of my rest : Ah ! wanton, will you ? And if I sleep, then pierceth he With pretty slight, And makes... | |
| Hippolyte Adolphe Taine - 1871 - عدد الصفحات: 556
...fair ones says the following verses, simpering, and we can even see now the pouting of her lips : ' Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet. Now...wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within my eyes he makes his rest, His bed amid my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast. And yet he... | |
| Hippolyte Taine - 1871 - عدد الصفحات: 554
...with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within my eyes he makes his rest, His bed amid my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast. And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah ! wanton, will ye ! ' * What relieves these sportive pieces is their splendour of imagination. There are effects and... | |
| Hippolyte Taine - 1871 - عدد الصفحات: 556
...plays with me^ Now with his feet. Within my eyes he makes his rest^ His bed amid my tender breast, Hy kisses are his daily feast. And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah ! wanton, will ye I ' * What relieves these sportive pieces is their splendour of imagination. There are effects and... | |
| William Shakespeare - 1890 - عدد الصفحات: 478
...nma ivith his feete. Within mine eies he makes his rtfasf, His bed amidst my tender breast. My tijfes are his daily feast; And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah wanton, will ye ? And if JJlecpe, then pearcheth he with pretie flight. And makes his pillow of my knee the liuelong... | |
| 1872 - عدد الصفحات: 900
...'11 be constant while we can, — You can be no more, you know. ROBERT BURNS. ROSALIND'S COMPLAINT. lus nest, His bed amidst my tender breast, My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my... | |
| William Cullen Bryant - 1873 - عدد الصفحات: 906
...'11 be constant while we can, — You can be no more, you know. ROBERT BURNS. ROSALIND'S COMPLAINT. spearmen, only great In that strange spell, — a...like adog — by one who wore Tlie badge of Ursini you ? And if I sleep, then pierceth he With pretty slight, And makes his pillow of my knee, The livelong... | |
| 1873 - عدد الصفحات: 296
...sunny day, as if a curse did stain Thy velvet leaf. WILLIAM WKTMOBE STORY. 46 ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL. LOVE in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with n»c, Now with his feet; Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast ; My kisses... | |
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