A Complete Edition of the Poets of Great Britain..: Chaucer. Surrey. Wyatt. Sackville

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John & Arthur Arch, ... and for Bell & Bradfute & I. Mundell & Company, Edinburgh., 1793

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الصفحة 106 - folk, thou falfe thefe. Now, Sires quod he, if it be you fo lefe To finden Deth, tourne up this croked way, For in that grove I left him by my fay Under a tree, and ther he wol abide, Ne for your
الصفحة 24 - is and eterne ; Wei may men knowen, but it be a fool, That every part deriveth from his hool ; For Nature hath not taken his beginning Of no partie ne cantel of a thing, But of a thing that parfit is and
الصفحة 10 - genius was univerfal, and adapted to themes of unbounded variety ; that his merit was not lefs in painting familiar manners with humour and propriety, than in moving the paffions, and in reprefenting the beautiful, or the grand objects of nature,
الصفحة 10 - and that a grete was he ; Scint Julian he was in his contrée. His brede, his ale¡ was alway after on ; A better envyned man was no wher non. Withouten bake mete never was his hous Of
الصفحة 27 - But all for nought, he herde not a word. An hole he fond ful low upon the bord, Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe, And at that hole he loked in ful depe, And at the
الصفحة 495 - Ne nevirmore myne eyin two ben drye ; And to your routhe and to your trouthe I crye, But wel away : to ferre ben they to fetche : Thus holdith me my Deftiny a wretche ; But me to rede out of this drede or gye Ne may my wit (fo
الصفحة 55 - a piftel in his ere, And bad him to be glad, and have no fere. Whan they ben comen to the court, this knight Said he had hold his day as he had hight, And redy was his
الصفحة 156 - And borwe gold be it a pound or two, Or ten or twelve, or many fommes mo, And make hem wenen at the lefte wey That of a pound we
الصفحة 71 - indigne and unworthy Am I to thilke honour that ye me bede, But as ye wol yourfelf, right fo wol I : And here I fwere that never willingly In werk ne thought I n'ill you difobeie For to be ded, though me were loth to
الصفحة 13 - And namely at the grete hart in May, That in his bed ther daweth him no day That he n'is clad, and redy for to ride With huntc and

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