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Seite 94 - He nothing common did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try; Nor called the Gods with vulgar spite To vindicate his helpless right ; But bowed his comely head Down, as upon a bed.
Seite 83 - Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, 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.
Seite 49 - To His Coy Mistress Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, Lady, were no crime; We would sit down and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian 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. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes...
Seite 82 - While all the flowers and 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: Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow: Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress
Seite 42 - He makes the figs our mouths to meet And throws the melons at our feet; But apples plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice. With cedars chosen by His hand From Lebanon He stores the land; And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergris on shore.
Seite 47 - twould boldly trip, And print those roses on my lip. But all its chief delight was still On roses thus itself to fill, And its pure virgin limbs to fold In whitest sheets of lilies cold : Had it lived long, it would have been Lilies without, roses within.
Seite 45 - Even beasts must be with justice slain; Else men are made their deodands. Though they should wash their guilty hands In this warm life-blood which doth part From thine, and wound me to the heart, Yet could they not be clean; their stain Is dyed in such a purple grain. There is not such another in The world, to offer for their sin.
Seite 47 - Yet could not, till itself would rise, Find it, although before mine eyes ; For in the flaxen lilies' shade, It like a bank of lilies laid. Upon the roses it would feed, Until its lips ev'n seemed to bleed.
Seite 46 - But Sylvio soon had me beguil'd : This waxed tame, while he grew wild, And quite regardless of my smart, Left me his fawn, but took his Heart. Thenceforth I set myself to play My solitary time away, With this : and, very well content, Could so mine idle life have spent.