Lays of the minnesingers or German troubadours of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries [ed. by E. Taylor.].

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Edgar Taylor
Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, 1825 - English poetry - 326 pages

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Page 232 - THE beautiful spring delights me well, When flowers and leaves are growing ; And it pleases my heart to hear the swell Of the birds...
Page 39 - For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Page 208 - Under der linden an der heide, da unser zweier bette was, da mugt ir vinden schone beide gebrochen bluomen unde gras. vor dem walde in einem tal, tandaradei, schone sanc diu nahtegal. Ich kam gegangen zuo der ouwe: do was min friedel komen e. da wart ich enpfangen, here frouwe, daz ich bin saelic iemer me.
Page 231 - Be m play lo douz temps de pascor Que fai fuelhas e flors venir ; E play mi quant aug la baudor Dels auzels que fan retentir Lor chan per lo boscatge ; E plai me quan vey sus els pratz Tendas e pavallos fermatz ; E plai m'en mon coratge, Quan vey per campanhas rengatz Cavalliers ab cavals armatz...
Page 292 - Qu'en son jargon ne chante ou crie Le temps a laissiť son manteau De vent, de froidure et de pluye.
Page 166 - Hath banished care, finds many a joy: And I too would be gay, Were the load of pining care away; Were my lady kind, my soul were light, — Joy crowning joy would raise its flight. . . The flowers, leaves, hills, the vale, and mead, And May with all its light, Compared with the roses are pale indeed. Which my lady bears; and bright My eyes will shine as they meet my sight — Those beautiful lips of rosy hue, As red as the rose just steeped in dew.
Page 145 - The woodlands with my songs resound, As still I seek to gain The favor of that lady fair Who causeth all my pain. My fate is like the nightingale's, That singeth all night long, While still the woodlands mournfully But echo back her song. What care the wild woods, as they wave, For all the songster's pains ? Who gives her the reward of thanks For all her tuneful strains ? In dull and mute ingratitude Her sweetest songs they hear ; Their tenants roam the desert wild, And want no music there.
Page 235 - I've long desired and loved — from you. Or, prisoner to some noble, may I fill Together with three more, some dungeon chill Unto each other odious company; Let master, servants, porters, try their skill, And use me for a target if they will, If ever I have loved aught else but thee. So may another knight make love to you, And so may I be puzzled what to do ; So may I be becalmed 'mid oceans wide ; May the king's porter beat me black and blue, And may I fly ere I the battle view, As they, that slander...
Page 207 - Fast by the fountain, where bright flowers Of sparkling hue we see ; Close sheltered from the summer heat, That vision came to me. All care was banished, and repose Came o'er my wearied breast ; And kingdoms seemed to wait on me, For I was with the blest.
Page 39 - Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

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