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.
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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

By Degrees.
And as a lovely maiden pure and chaste, With naked ivory neck and gown unla'd Within her chamber, when the day is fled Makes poor her garments, to enrich her bed First puts she off her Lilly silken gown, That shrikes for sorrow, as she layes it down, And with her armes graceth a wastecoat fine, Imbracing her, as it would nere untwine. Her flaxen hair, insnaring al beholders, She next permits to weav about her shoulders:

Page 254

And though she cast it back, the silken slips, Sill forward steal and hang upon her lips Whereat she sweetly angry with her laces, Binds up the wanton locks in curious traces, Whilst twisting with her joynts, each hair long linger As loath to be inchaind, but with her fingers; Then on her head a dressing like a crown, Her breasts all bare, her kirtle hanging down, And all things off, which rightly ever be Call'd the foul fair marks of our miserie, Except her last, which enviously doth feize her, Lest any eye partake with it in pleasure, Prepares for sweetest rest, till Sylvans greet her And longingly the down bed swels to meet her, So by degrees, &c.
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