HAT which her slender waist confined
shall now my joyful temples bind:
no monarch but would give his crown
his arms might do what this has done.
It was my Heaven's extremest sphere,
the pale which held that lovely deer:
my joy, my grief, my hope, my love
did all within this circle move.
A narrow compass! and yet there
dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair:
give me but what this ribband bound,
take all the rest the Sun goes round.
139 COMFORT TO A LADY UPON THE DEATH OF
DRY your sweet cheek long drown'd with sorrow's
since clouds disperst, suns guild the aire again.
Seas chafe and fret and beat and overboile,
but turne soon after calme, as balme or oile.
Winds have their time to rage; but, when they cease, the leavie trees nod in a still-born peace.
Your storme is over: Lady, now appeare
like to the peeping spring-time of the yeare.
Off then with graveclothes; put fresh colours on;
and glow and flame in your vermillion:
upon your cheek sate ysicles awhile:
now let the Rose raigne like a queene and smile.
MELPOMENE, the muse of tragic songs,
with mournful tunes, in stole of dismal hue,
assist a silly nymph to wail her woe,
and leave thy lusty company behind.
Thou luckless wreath! becomes not me to wear
the poplar tree, for triumph of my love:
then as my joy, my pride of love, is left,
be thou unclothed of thy lovely green;
and in thy leaves my fortune written be,
and them some gentle wind let blow abroad,
that all the world may see how false of love
false Paris hath to his Enone been.
HE dewdrop, that at first of day
hangs on the violet flower,
although it shimmereth in the ray
and trembleth at the Zephyr's power,
shews not so fair nor pleasantly,
as love that bursts from beauty's eye.
The little bird that clear doth sing
in shelter of green trees,
when flowrets sweet begin to spring
in dew-besprengéd leas,
is not so pleasant to mine ear
as love that scantly speaks for fear. 142 The rose when first it doth prepare its ruddy leaves to spread,
and kisséd by the cold night air
hangs down its coyen head,
is not so fair as love that speaks
in unbid blush on beauty's cheeks,
The pains of war, when streams of blood
are smoking on the ground
where foemen breme of lustihood
ymixed in death are found,
yea, death itself is lightlier borne
than cruel beauty's smiling scorn.
143 KINDRED objects kindred thoughTS INSPIRE ND hence that calm delight the portrait gives:
we gaze in every feature till it lives!
still the fond lover sees the absent maid;
and the lost friend still lingers in his shade!
Say why the pensive widow loves to weep,
when on her knee she rocks her babe to sleep:
tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace
the father's features in his infant face.
The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away,
won by the raptures of a game at play;
he bends to meet each artless burst of joy,
forgets his age, and acts again the boy.
WEIGH not Fortune's frown or smile,
I joy not much in earthly joys;
I seek not state, I reck not stile,
I am not fond of fancy's toys;
I rest so pleas'd with what I have,
I wish no more, no more I crave.
I quake not at the thunder's crack,
I tremble not at noise of war,
I swoon not at the news of wrack,
I shrink not at a blazing star:
I fear not loss, I hope not gain;
I envy none, I none disdain.
145 I see ambition never pleased,
I see some Tantals starved in store;
I see gold's dropsy seldom eased,
I see e'en Midas gape for more.
I neither want, nor yet abound:
enough's a feast: content is crown'd.
I feign not friendship where I hate,
I fawn not on the great in show,
I prize, I praise a mean estate,
neither too lofty nor too low;
this, this is all my choice, my cheer,
a mind content, a conscience clear.
WOW fades the last long streak of snow,
now burgeons every maze of quick about the flowering squares, and thick
by ashen roots the violets blow.
Now rings the woodland loud and long,
the distance takes a. lovelier hue,
and drowned in yonder living blue
the lark becomes a sightless song.
Now dance the lights on lawn and lea,
the flocks are whiter down the vale,
and milkier every milky sail
on winding stream or distant sea.
THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES
Bor' fortune, fate or Providence complain?
OUT, why, alas do mortal men in vain
God gives us what He knows our wants require,
and better things than those which we desire.
Some pray for riches: riches they obtain,
but watched by robbers for their wealth are slain.
Some pray from prison to be freed; and come,
when guilty of their vows, to fall at home,
murdered by those they trusted with their life,
a favoured servant or a bosom-wife.
Such dear-bought blessings happen every day,
because we know not for what things to pray.
THE LIGHT OF LOVE
HE is not fair to outward view
as many maidens be;
her loveliness I never knew
until she smiled on me.
O then I saw her eye was bright,
a well of love, a spring of light.
But now her looks are coy and cold,
to mine they ne'er reply,
and yet I cease not to behold
the love-light in her eye:
her very frowns are fairer far
than smiles of other maidens are.
ΚΗΡΥΣΣΩ τὸν Ἔρωτα, τὸν ἄγριον· ἄρτι γάρ, ἄρτι
ὀρθρινὸς ἐκ κοίτας ᾤχετ ̓ ἀποπτάμενος·
ἔστι δ ̓ ὁ παῖς γλυκύδακρυς, ἀείλαλος, ὠκύς, ἀθαμβής,
σιμὰ γελῶν, πτερόεις νῶτα, φαρετροφόρος·
πατρὸς δ ̓ οὐκέτ ̓ ἔχω φράζειν τίνος· οὔτε γὰρ αἰθήρ,
οὐ χθών φησι τεκεῖν τὸν θρασύν, οὐ πέλαγος·
πάντη γὰρ καὶ πᾶσιν ἀπέχθεται. ἀλλ ̓ ἐσορᾶτε,
μή που νῦν ψυχαῖς ἄλλα τίθησι λίνα·
καίτοι κεῖνος, ἰδού, περὶ φωλεόν. οὔ με λέληθας,
τοξότα, Ζηνοφίλας ὄμμασι κρυπτόμενος.
ἼΒΥΚΕ, ληϊσταί σε κατέκτανον ἔκ ποτε νήσου
βάντ ̓ ἐς ἐρημαίην ἄστιβον ἠϊόνα,
ἀλλ ̓ ἐπιβωσάμενον γεράνων νέφος, αἳ τοι ίκοντο
μάρτυρες ἄλγιστον ὀλλυμένῳ θάνατον.
οὐδὲ μάτην ἰάχησας, ἐπεὶ ποινῆτις Ερινὺς
τῶνδε διὰ κλαγγὴν τίσατο σεῖο φόνον
Σισυφίην κατὰ γαῖαν. Ἰω φιλοκερδέα φύλα
ληϊστέων, τί θεῶν οὐ πεφόβησθε χόλον;
οὐδὲ γὰρ ὁ προπάροιθε κανὼν Αἴγισθος ἀοιδὸν
ὄμμα μελαμπέπλων ἔκφυγεν Εὐμενίδων.
|