The English Parnassus, or, A helpe to English poesie containing a collection of all rhyming monosyllables, the choicest epithets, and phrases : with some general forms upon all occasions, subjects, and theams, alphabeticaly digested : together with a short institution to English poesie, by way of a preface / by Joshua Poole.
About this Item
- Title
- The English Parnassus, or, A helpe to English poesie containing a collection of all rhyming monosyllables, the choicest epithets, and phrases : with some general forms upon all occasions, subjects, and theams, alphabeticaly digested : together with a short institution to English poesie, by way of a preface / by Joshua Poole.
- Author
- Poole, Josua, fl. 1632-1646.
- Publication
- London :: Printed for Tho. Johnson,
- 1657.
- Rights/Permissions
-
This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this text, in whole or in part. Please contact project staff at eebotcp-info@umich.edu for further further information or permissions.
- Subject terms
- English poetry.
- Epithets.
- English language -- Rhyme -- Dictionaries.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A55357.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"The English Parnassus, or, A helpe to English poesie containing a collection of all rhyming monosyllables, the choicest epithets, and phrases : with some general forms upon all occasions, subjects, and theams, alphabeticaly digested : together with a short institution to English poesie, by way of a preface / by Joshua Poole." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A55357.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2024.
Pages
Page 457
Which doth breath,
••••aths secret errand.
What an hot summer's ••n my bosome,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust,
Bid winter come,
••d thrust his icie finger in my maw,
Or let all rive••s take their course.
Though my burnt veins, intreat the North,
To make his bleak w••nds kisse my parched lip,
••••d breath me some cold comfort. v. Hot.