The poetical works of Andrew Marvell [ed. by J.R. Lowell]. Repr. of the Amer. ed

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Seite 77 - Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide: There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light. Such was that happy garden-state, While man there walked without a mate. After a place so pure and sweet, What other help could yet be meet! But 'twas beyond a mortal's share To wander solitary there: Two paradises 'twere in one, To live in paradise alone.
Seite 43 - Ganges' side Should'st rubies find : I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews...
Seite 75 - While all flowers and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose! Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men.
Seite 76 - When we have run our passion's heat, Love hither makes his best retreat. The Gods, that mortal beauty chase, Still in a tree did end their race; Apollo hunted Daphne so, Only that she might laurel grow; And Pan did after Syrinx speed, Not as a nymph, but for a reed.
Seite 73 - Wer't not a price, who'ld value gold ? And that's worth nought that can be sold. PLEASURE. Wilt thou all the glory have That war or peace commend ? Half the world shall be thy slave ; The other half thy friend ! SOUL. What friends ! if to myself untrue ? What slaves ! unless I captive you ? PLEASURE. Thou shall know each hidden cause ! And see the future time ! Try what depth, the centre draws!
Seite 87 - ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND The forward youth that would appear, Must now forsake his Muses dear, Nor in the shadows sing His numbers languishing. 'Tis time to leave the books in dust, And oil the unused armour's rust, Removing from the wall The corslet of the hall.
Seite 21 - Unhappy ! shall we never more That sweet militia restore, When gardens only had their towers And all the garrisons were flowers, When roses only arms might bear, And men did rosy garlands wear...
Seite 74 - Soul, that drop, that ray Of the clear Fountain of Eternal Day, Could it, within the human flower be seen, Rememb'ring still its former height, Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green; And, re-collecting its own light, Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express The greater Heaven in a heaven less.
Seite 44 - I think, do there embrace. Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey Rather at once our time devour, Than languish in his slow-chaped power.
Seite 42 - The engraver sure his art may spare ; For I so truly thee bemoan, That I shall weep, though I be stone, Until my tears, still dropping, wear My breast, themselves engraving there ; Then at my feet shalt thou be laid, Of purest alabaster made ; For I would have thine image be White as I can, though not as thee.

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