When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From death to life, thou might'st him yet recover
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.
I pray thee leave, love me no more, / Call home the heart you gave me, / I but in vain the saint adore, / That can, but will not, save me.
Fair stood the wind for France, / When we our sails advance, / Nor now to prove our chance, / Longer will tarry.
Thus when we fondly flatter our desires,<br/>Our best conceits do prove the greatest liars.
It is too early to put a final loss figure on the event, but the combined insured losses from winds and flooding could reach 500 million pounds.
Must, bid the Morn awake! Sad Winter now declines, Each bird doth choose a mate; This day's Saint alentine's. For that good bishop's sake Get up and let us see What beauty it shall be That Fortune us assigns.
Had in him those brave translunary things/ That the first poets had.
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, / And when we meet at any time again, / Be it not seen in either of our brows, / That we one jot of former love retain.
Next these, learn'd Jonson, in this list I bring, / Who had drunk deep of the Pierian spring.
Oh, when shall English men With such acts fill a pen, Or England breed again Such a King Harry?