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1388

1389

ON AN INFANT WHO DIED

HOU camest into this world a little spy;

THOU

where all things that could please the ear and eye

were set before thee; but thou found'st them toys,
and flewest with scornful smiles to eternal joys:
no visage of grim death is sent to affright
thy spotless soul, nor darkness blinds thy sight;
but lightsome angels, with their golden wings,
o'erspread thy cradle, and each spirit brings
some precious balm, for heavenly medicine meet,
to make the separation soft and sweet.

SIR J. BEAUMONT

I

WOULD that I were nigh her,

wherever she rest or rove!

my spirit waves as a spiral fire

in a viewless wind doth move.

Go forth, alone, go forth, wild-wing'd Desire,
thou art the bird of Jove,

that broodest lone by the Olympian throne;
and strong to bear the thunders which destroy,
or fetch the ravisht, flute-playing, Phrygian boy;
go forth, across the world, and find my love!

O. MEREDITH

1390

1391

Do

EPITAPH ON MICHAEL DRAYTON

O, pious marble, let thy readers know what they, and what their children owe to Drayton's name; whose sacred dust

we recommend unto thy trust.

Protect his memory, and preserve his story,
remain a lasting monument of his glory.—
And when thy ruins shall disclaim
to be the treasurer of his name;
his name, that cannot die, shall be
an everlasting monument to thee.

PART II § 32

BEN JONSON

1392

GLAUCOPIS forsakes her own,

the angry gods forget us;

but yet the blue streams along
wake the feet of the silver song;
and the nightbird wakes the moon,
and the bees in the blushing noon
haunt the heart of the old Hymettus:
we are fallen but not forlorn
if something is left to cherish:
as Love was the earliest born,
so Love is the last to perish.

E. BULWER LYTTON

1393 TRUTH DELIVERED FROM THE DUNGEON

THREE

HREE furies fell, which turn the world to ruth, both Envy, Strife and Slander here appear;

in dungeon dark they long inclosed Truth,

but Time at length did loose his daughter dear, and sets aloft that sacred lady bright,

who things long hid reveals, and brings to light.
Though Strife make fire, though Envy eat her heart,
the innocent though Slander rend and spoil:
yet Time will come, and take this lady's part,

and break her bonds, and bring her foes to foil. Despair not then, though Truth be hidden oft, because at length she shall be set aloft.

G. WHITNEY

1394 M. LE DUC DE NIVERNOIS TO MADAME LA MA

RESCHALE DE MIREPOIX, WHO HAD SENT HIM SOME
VERSES WITH A LOCK OF HER GREY HAIR

Q

UOI! vous parlez de cheveuz blancs?
laissons, laissons courir le tems:

que nous importe son ravage?

Les tendres cœurs en sont exempts,
les amours sont toujours enfans,

et les graces sont de tout age.
Pour moi, Theinire, je le sens,
je suis toujours dans mon printems,

quand je vous offre mon homage:

1395

si je n'avais que dix-huit ans,
je pouvais aimer plus long-temps,
mais non pas aimer d'avantage.

THE TRIUMPH OVER DEATH

LARA ducum soboles, superis nova sedibus hospes,

clausit inoffenso tramite pura diem:

dotibus ornavit, superavit moribus ortum,
omnibus una prior, par fuit una sibi:
lux genus ingenio, generi lux inclyta virtus,
virtutisque fuit mens genèrosa decus:
mors muta at properata dies orbumque relinquit
prolem matre, virum conjuge, flore genus,
occidit, ast alium tulit hic occasus in ortum,
vivit ad occiduas non reditura vices.

1396

R. SOUTHWELL

VENUS TO PARIS

N hell there is a tree

IN

where once a day do sleep the souls of false forsworen lovers,

with open hearts, and there about in swarms the number hovers

of poor forsaken ghosts, whose wings from off this tree do beat

round drops of fiery Phlegethon to scorch false hearts with heat.

This pain did Venus and her son entreat the prince of hell

t'impose to such as faithless were to such as lov'd them well.

And therefore this, my lovely boy, fair Venus doth advise thee,

be true and stedfast in thy love, beware thou do disguise thee:

for he that makes but love a jest, when pleaseth

him to start,

shall feel those fiery water-drops consume his faith

less heart.

G. PEELE

1397

FLOR

DE CUPIDINE ET HYELLA

LORENTES dum forte vagans mea Hyella per hortos

texit odoratis lilia cana rosis:

ecce rosas inter latitantem invenit Amorem:
et simul annexis floribus implicuit:
luctatur primo: et contra nitentibus alis
indomitus tentat solvere vincla puer :
mox ubi lacteolas et dignas matre papillas
vidit et ora ipsos nata movere deos:
impositosque comæ ambrosios ut sensit odores,
quosque legit diti messe beatus Arabs:

I, dixit, mea, quære novum tibi, mater, Amorem;
imperio sedes hæc erit apta meo.

A. NAVGERIVS

1398 TO A LADY WITH A PRESENT of a pair of

1399

DRINKING-GLASSES

AIR Empress of the Poet's soul,

FAIR

and Queen of Poetesses;
Clarinda, take this little boon,
this humble pair of glasses.

And fill them high with generous juice,
as generous as your mind;

and pledge me in the generous toast-
'The whole of human kind!'

'To those who love us!'-second fill;

but not to those whom we love; lest we love those who love not us! a third-To thee and me love!'

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R. BURNS

1400

1401

Ich kann nicht singen und springen,
ich liege krank im Grass;
ich höre fernes Klingen,

mir träumt, ich weiss nicht was.

W

14C2

EUTHANASIA

H. HEINE

HEN Time, or soon or late, shall bring the dreamless sleep that lulls the dead, oblivion! may thy languid wing

wave gently o'er my dying bed!

No band of friends or heirs be there,
to weep or wish the coming blow:
no maiden, with dishevell'd hair,
to feel, or feign, decorous woe.

But silent let me sink to earth,

with no officious mourners near:
I would not mar one hour of mirth,
nor startle friendship with a tear.

LORD BYRON

VISSA teco son io molti e molt' anni,

poi recise il mio fil la giusta morte,
e mi sottrasse alli mondani inganni.
Se lieta io goda ne i beati scanni,
ti giuro che'l morir non mi fù forte;
se non pensando alla tua cruda sorte,
e che sol ti lasciarà in tante affanni.
Ma la virtù che 'n te dal ciel riluce,
al passar questo abisso oscuro e cieco,
spero che ti sarà maëstra e duce.

Non pianger piu, ch' io sarò sempre teco,
e bella e viva, al fin della tua luce,
venir vedrai me, e rimenarten meco!

'DE

LA FEUILLE

E ta tige détachée,
pauvre feuille desséchée,

où vas tu?' 'Je n'en sais rien;
l'orage a brisé le chêne

A. S. SANNAZARO

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