The Works of Sir Walter Ralegh, Kt: Miscellaneous works

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At the University Press, 1829
 

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Página 721 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon, My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Página 706 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Página 587 - The good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth that which is good; and the evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth that which is evil : for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaketh.
Página 714 - Passions are likened best to floods and streams: The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; So, when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come. They that are rich in words, in words discover That they are poor in that which makes a lover.
Página 707 - A honey tongue, a heart of gall Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Página 705 - Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Woods or steepy mountain yields.
Página 722 - That, since my flesh must die so soon, And want a head to dine next noon, Just at the stroke, when my veins start and spread, Set on my soul an everlasting head!
Página 722 - No cause deferred, no vain-spent journey, For there Christ is the King's Attorney, Who pleads for all without degrees, And He hath angels, but no fees. And when the grand twelve-million jury Of our sins, with direful fury, 'Gainst our souls black verdicts give, Christ pleads His death, and then we live Be Thou my speaker, taintless pleader, Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder!
Página 730 - She is neither white nor brown, But as the heavens fair; There is none hath a form so divine In the earth or the air.
Página 697 - IF Love be life, I long to die ! Live they that list, for me ! And he that gains the most thereby, A fool, at least, shall be! But he that feels the sorest fits, 'Scapes with no less than loss of wits ! Unhappy life they gain, Which Love do entertain ! In day, by feigned looks they live ; By lying dreams in night ! Each frown, a deadly wound doth give ; Each smile, a false delight ! If 't hap their Lady pleasant seem; It is for others...

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