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.

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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.
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 May 2, 2024.

Pages

Horse.
High bounding Steeds, whose rich caparison With Scarlet blush, with gold their bridles shone. The best that ever trode The sounding Centre. Like to the breed of great Laomedon,

Page 347

r those which Jove gave Tros. The bloody spur thrusts anger in his side, Which perform their fiery course. ••••rinckling their foam, and snowing on the dust. ••••e Steed in stately trappings proudly stamps, nd in his mouth the foamy bridle champs, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 forth the ringled bit, and with his hooves Checks the submissive ground. He lifts his hasty hoof, as if he scorned The earth, as if his tabering feet had found A way to go, and yet ne'r touch the ground. Bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs. He is pure air and fire. Earth and water never shew hemselves in him, but in his still patience to let his ider mount him. There stamps a Steed that champs the frothy steel. This strokes the ground, that scorns it with his heel. His neck with thunder arm'd, his breast with force, Who from his nostrils throws a dreadfull, light Ealts in his own courage, proudly bounds, With trampling hoof the sounding Centre wounds, Breaks through the order'd ranks with eyes that burn, Nor from the battel-ax nor sword will turn, The ratling Quiver, nor the glittring Spear, Or dazling Shield can daunt his heart with fear, Through rage and fiercenesse he devours the ground, Nor in his fury hears the trumpet sound, Far off the battel smells, like thunder neighs, Loud shouts and dying groans his courage raise. One snorts, another puffes out angry wind, This mounts before, and that curvets behind, That with their hoofs so swift beat out the race, As if an engin shot them to the place, Going as if they did disdain the ground, And treading on it, not for necessity, but in contempt. The batter'd Centre flew In clouds of dust raised from their pransing hoofs, That beat a thunder from the groaning earth.

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