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Anthologia Anglica, a New Selection From the English Poets From Spenser to Shelley, With Short Literary Notices by H. Williams
Anthologia Anglica a New Selection From the English Poets From Spenser to Shelley With Short Literary Notices by H Williams Author:Howard Williams General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1873 Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million book... more »s for free. Excerpt: IX. MATER DOLOROSA. (Constance log.) i Deft all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress, Death, death : -- 0 amiable lovely Death ! Thou odoriferous stench, sound rottenness! Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones, And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, And ring these fingers with thy household worms; And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a carrion monster like thyself: Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest, And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love, O, come to me ! 0, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth Then with a passion would I shake the world; And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation. Pandulf. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. Cons. Thou art not holy to belie me so. I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine; My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife; Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost. I am not mad : I would to heaven I were ! For then 't is like I should forget myself: 0, if I could, what grief should I forget! Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canonised, cardinal. Father cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven : If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born. But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud, And chase t...« less