The book of archery

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204. oldal - With Spanish yew so strong, Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung, Piercing the weather ; None from his fellow starts, But playing manly parts, And like true English hearts Stuck close together.
204. oldal - They now to fight are gone, Armour on armour shone, Drum now to drum did groan, To hear was wonder ; That with the cries they make, The very earth did shake, Trumpet to trumpet spake, Thunder to thunder.
xii. oldal - Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o
203. oldal - Which he neglects the while As from a nation vile, Yet with an angry smile Their fall portending. And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then, ' Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed. Yet have we well begun, Battles so bravely won Have ever to the sun By fame been raised. And for myself...
287. oldal - They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
205. oldal - Gloucester, that duke so good, Next of the royal blood, For famous England stood, With his brave brother; Clarence, in steel so bright, Though but a maiden knight, Yet in that furious fight Scarce such another! Warwick in blood did wade.
241. oldal - What have you done to me?" replied coolly the prisoner: "you killed with your own hands my father, and my two brothers; and you intended to have hanged myself...
429. oldal - Apollo's altars in his native town. Now with full force the yielding horn he bends, Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling ends ; Close to his breast he strains the nerve below, Till the barb'd point approach the circling bow ; The' impatient weapon whizzes on the wing ; Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering string.
165. oldal - Gaznevide, dissembling his anxiety, "if I should stand in need of the whole force of your kindred tribes?
203. oldal - Have ever to the sun By fame been raised. And for myself (quoth he), This my full rest shall be : England ne'er mourn for me, Nor more esteem me; Victor I will remain, Or on this earth lie slain, Never shall she sustain Loss to redeem me.

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