The Works of the British Poets, with Lives of the Authors, Том 5

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J. Eastburn, 1819
 

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Стр. 324 - To BLOSSOMS FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile, And go at last.
Стр. 323 - Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along.
Стр. 323 - We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain ; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Стр. 325 - Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth, And lose you quite. But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave: And after they have shown their pride Like you, awhile, they glide Into the grave.
Стр. 336 - If thy verse do bravely tower, As she makes wing she gets power ; Yet the higher she doth soar, She's affronted still the more : Till she to the high'st hath past, Then she rests with fame at last.
Стр. 30 - Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, To model forth the passions of the morrow; Never let rising sun approve you liars, To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow. Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, And never wake to feel the day's disdain.
Стр. 178 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Стр. 337 - By a daisy, whose leaves, spread, Shut when Titan goes to bed, Or a shady bush or tree, She could more infuse in me Than all Nature's beauties can In some other wiser man.
Стр. 175 - t: For had not her care furnisht you out With something of handsome, without all doubt You and your sorry Lady Muse had been In the number of those that were not let in. In haste from the court two or three came in, And they brought letters (forsooth) from the Queen; Twas discreetly done, too, for if th' had come Without them, th' had scarce been let into the room.
Стр. 114 - It is a yea, it is a nay ; A pretty kind of sporting fray ; It is a thing will soon away ; Then, nymphs, take 'vantage while ye may ; And this is love, as I hear say.

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