Like as a huntsman after weary chace, Seeing the game from him escaped away, Sits down to rest him in some shady place, With panting hounds beguilèd of their prey; So after long pursuit and vain assay, When I all weary had the chace forsook, The gentle deer returned the self-same way, Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brook; There she beholding me with milder look, Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide, Till I in hand her yet half trembling took, And with her own good-will her firmly tied ; Strange thing meseemed to see a beast so wild So goodly won, with her own will beguiled.
A VISION UPON THE FAIRY QUEEN. Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay, Within that temple where the vestal flame Was wont to burn; and passing by that way To see that buried dust of living fame, Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept, All suddenly I saw The Fairy Queen : At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept ; And from thenceforth those Graces were not seen, For they this Queen attended; in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse. Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed, And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce, Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief,
And cursed the accéss of that celestial thief. Sir Walter Raleigh.
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.
Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, [or] hills and fields, Woods or steepy mountains yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat, As precious as the gods do eat, Shall, on an ivory table, be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning.
If these delights thy mind may move, Come live with me, and be my love.
If all the world and Love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold; Then Philomel becometh dumb, The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy bed of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten; In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move, To come to thee, and be thy love.
What should we talk of dainties then, Of better meat than's fit for men? These are but vain: that's only good
Which God hath blessed and sent for food.
But could youth last, and love still breed, Had joys no date, nor age no need; Then those delights my mind might move, To live with thee, and be thy love.
Like to Diana in her summer weed,
Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,
Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed, When washed by Arethusa faint they lie,
As fair Aurora in her morning grey, Decked with the ruddy glister of her love, Is fair Samela;
Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day,
Whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move,
Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams, Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory
Her cheeks like rose and lily yield forth gleams, Her brows' bright arches framed of ebony;
Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,
And Juno in the show of majesty,
For she's Samela:
Pallas in wit, all three, if you will view, For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity
Rose-cheeked Laura, come!
Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty's
Silent music, either other
Sweetly gracing.
Lovely forms do flow
From concent divinely framed ;
Heaven is music, and thy beauty's
These dull notes we sing
Discords need for helps to grace them;
Only beauty purely loving
Knows no discord;
But still moves delight,
Like clear springs renewed by flowing,
Ever perfect, ever in them
Selves eternal.
See the chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my lady rideth!
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
As she goes, all hearts do duty
And enamoured do wish, so they might
But enjoy such a sight,
That they still were to run by her side,
Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. 10
Do but look on her eyes, they do light All that Love's world compriseth! Do but look on her hair, it is bright As Love's star when it riseth! Do but mark her forehead smoother
Than words that soothe her!
« ՆախորդըՇարունակել » |