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" Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale when May is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters and keeps... "
Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth: Delivered at ... - Стр. 252
авторы: William Hazlitt - 1821 - Страниц: 356
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Specimens of the British Poets: With Biographical and Critical Notices, and ...

Thomas Campbell - 1841 - Страниц: 716
...warm her note. Ask me no more, where those stars light, That downwards fall in dead of night ; For.in your eyes they sit, and there Fixed become, as in...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. UPON MR. W. MONTAGUE'S RETURN FROM TRAVEL. Ii 1 1. the black bull to slaughter, with the boar And lamb...
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The Helicon of Love: A Selection from the Poets of the Sixteenth and ...

1844 - Страниц: 123
...golden atoms of the Day ; For, in pure love, Ilcnven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more — where those Stars light. That downwards...at last, she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies I TO CELIA. No more shall meads be deck'd with flowers, Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers, Nor greenest...
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Memoirs of the Loves of the Poets: Biographical Sketches of Women Celebrated ...

Mrs. Jameson (Anna) - 1844 - Страниц: 376
...those stars light That downwards fall in dead of night; For in your eyes they sit—and there Fix'd become as in their sphere. Ask me no more, if east...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. Ladies, fly from Love's sm&oth tale, Oaths steep'd in tears do oft prevail; Grief is infectious, and...
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Cyclopædia of English Literature, Том 1

Robert Chambers - 1844
...nightingale when May in past ; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note. pull'd, she said, And he by friar's lantern led ; Tells how the drudging goblin sweat die« ! The СоицЛшсп!. I do not love thee for that fair Rich fan of thy most curious hair ;...
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Carew

Thomas Carew - 1845 - Страниц: 223
...in your beauty's orient deep, These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither doth stray The golden atoms of the day : For, in pure love,...And in your fragrant bosom dies. THE HUE AND CRY. IN Love's name you are charged hereby, To make a speedy hue and cry After a face which, t'other day,...
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A Love Gift for ...

1841
...pure love, heaven did prepare Those powders to inrich your hair. Ask me no more, whither doth baste The nightingale, when May is past ; For in your sweet...at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. CAHEW. SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS. SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of...
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Cyclopædia of English Literature: A Selection of the Choicest Productions ...

Robert Chambers - 1847
...nightingale when May is past ; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note. ." honour Compliment. I do not love thee for that fair Rich fan of thy most curious hair ; Though the wires thereof...
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Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A Selection of the Choicest ..., Том 1

Robert Chambers - 1847
...sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps worm her note. Ask me no more if east or west The Phœnix coln"% Cham 6 I The Compliment. I do not love thee for that fair Rich fan of thy most curious hair ; Though the wires...
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Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A Selection of the Choicest ..., Том 1

Robert Chambers - 1849
...nightingale when May is past ; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note, now J Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. Marctllua....is struck. /A./-. Indeed ! I heard it not. It then I The Compliment. I do not love thce for that fair Rich fan of thy most curious hair ; Though the wires...
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Hausschatz englischer Poesie: Auswahl aus den Werken der bedeutendsten ...

Oskar Ludwig Bernhard Wolff - 1852 - Страниц: 399
...stray The golden atomes of the day; For , in pure love , heaven did prepare Those powders to inrich your hair. Ask me no more , whither doth haste The...last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies. The Primrose. Ask me why I send you here This firstling of the infant year; Ask me why I send to you This...
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