« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW.
I love thee to the level of every day's
A Lecture upon the Shadow.
Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, Love, in love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent
Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produced : Smiles, tears, of all my life!— and, if God choose,
But, now the sun is just above our head, I shall but love thee better after death.
We do those shadows tread,
And to brave clearness all things are reduced.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
From us and from our cares; but now it is not so. To One who would make a Confession.
That love hath not attained the high'st degree, Oh! leave the past to bury its own dead.
Which is still diligent lest others see;
Except our loves at this noon stay,
As the first were made to blind I would not, if I could, those days recall,
Others, these which come behind Those days not ours. For us the feast is spread,
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes, The lamps are lit, and music plays withal.
If our loves faint, and westwardly. decline, Then let us love and leave the rest unsaid.
To me thou falsely thine, This island is our home. Around it roar
And I to thee mine actions shall disguise. Great gulfs and oceans, channels, straits, and seas.
The morning shadows wear away, What matter in what wreck we reached the shore,
But these grow longer all the day;
But, oh! love's day is short, if love decay.
Love is a growing or full constant light,
Phillida and Corydon.
To One Excusing his Poverty. Ah! love, impute it not to me a sin
That my poor soul thus beggared comes to thee. My soul a pilgrim was, in search of thine,
And met these accidents by land and sea.
The world was hard, and took its usury, Its toll for each new night in each new inn;
And every road had robber bands to fee; And all, even kindness, must be paid in coin. Behold my scrip is empty, my heart bare.
I give thee nothing who my all would give. My pilgrimage is finished, and I fare
Bare to my death, unless with thee I live. Ah! give, love, and forgive that I am poor. Ah! take me to thy arms and ask no more.
WILFRED SCAWEN BLUNT.
Where anon by a wood side,
Much adoe there was, God wot;
DISCOURSE WITH CUPID.
Tell me, my heart. WAEN Delia on the plain appears, Awed by a thousand tender fears, I would approach, but dare not move: Tell me, my heart, if this be love
Whene'er she speaks, my ravished ear
If she some other youth commend,
When she is absent, I no more
Which you call my shafts. And see !
When, fond of power, of beauty vain,
Wiscourse with Cupid. Noblest Charis, you that are Both my fortune and my star! And do govern more my blood, Than the various moon the flood ! Hear what late discourse of you Love and I have had ; and true. 'Mongst my muses finding me, Where he chanced your name to see Set, and to this softer strain: "Sure,” said he, “if I have brain, This here sung can be no other By description, but my mother! So hath Homer praised her hair; So Anacreon drawn the air Of her face, and made to rise, Just about her sparkling eyes, Both her brows, bent like my bow. By her looks I do her know,
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.
Doth ask a drink divine;
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee, late, a rosy wreath,
Not so much honoring thee,
It could not withered be.
And sent'st it back to me;
PHILOSTRATUS. (Greek.) Translation of Ben Jonson.
Say thou lov'st me while thou live,
While that life endures:
This my love assures.
I will it restore;
Never can rebel :
She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be,
Until she smiled on me;
But now her looks are coy and cold,
To mine they ne'er reply,
The love-light in her eye:
Reason masters every sense,
And her virtues grace her birth; Lovely as all excellence,
Modest in her most of mirth. Likelihood enough to prove Only worth could kindle love.
Oh, then speak, thou fairest fair!
Kill not him that vows to serve thee;
'Tis a word that's quickly spoken,
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
Such she is; and if you know
Such a one as I have sung;
That she be but somewhat young;
Beauty Clear and Fair.
BEAUTY clear and fair,
Where the air
Where the violet and the rose
Their blue veins in blush disclose, And come to honor nothing else;
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Green pleasure or gray grief; If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
And love were like the tune, With double sound and single Delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon; If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune.
Where to live near,
And planted there,
Where to gain a favor is
More than light, perpetual bliss,Make me live by serving you !
Dear, again back recall
To this light
Both the wonder and the story
Shall be yours, and eke the glory; I am your servant, and your thrall.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
If you were life, my darling,
And I, your love, were death, We'd shine and snow together Ere March made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling,
And hours of fruitful breath; If you were life, my darling,
And I, your love, were death.
And I were page to joy,
And laughs of maid and boy;
And I were page to joy. If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours, And draw for days with flowers,
DEAREST, do not delay me,
Since, thou knowest, I must be gone; Wind and tide, 'tis thought, do stay me; But 'tis wind that must be blown
From that breath, whose native smell