English Fairy Poetry from the Origins to the Seventeenth Century

H. Froude, 1912 - 235 pagina's
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Pagina 118 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves ; And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites ; and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms...
Pagina 108 - O, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners...
Pagina 108 - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid ; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o'mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Pagina 108 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; / The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; / The traces, of the smallest spider's web; / The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams; / Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; / Her...
Pagina 108 - O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream : Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Pagina 165 - The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, Now to the moon in wavering morrice move ; And, on the tawny sands and shelves, Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
Pagina 185 - Of theirs, which yet remain, Were footed in Queen Mary's days On many a grassy plain. But since of late Elizabeth, And, later, James came in, They never danced on any heath, As when the time hath bin. By which we note the fairies Were of the old profession : Their songs were Ave Maries, Their dances were procession. But now, alas ! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas, Or farther for religion fled, Or else they take their ease.
Pagina 54 - Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede; This was the olde opinion, as I rede. I speke of manye hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see none elves mo.
Pagina 164 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength ; And, crop-full, out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Pagina 50 - Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fyne ; At ilka tett of her horse's mane, Hung fifty siller bells and nine. True Thomas, he...

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