Elizabethan Sonnet-cycles: Idea, by M. Drayton. Fidessa, by B. GriffinMartha Foote Crow K. Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1897 |
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Ankor aspire BARTHOLOMEW GRIFFIN bear beauty's behold blest blind breast breath caitiffs Chloris conceit crave cruel cruel love cruelty Cupid dear death delight despair disdain earth evermore face fair Fidessa fairest fair faith fame Fates favour fear fire flame fortune give goddess grace grief hate hath hear heart heaven heavenly Hellespont hope immortal live love's lovers lute MICHAEL DRAYTON mind mistress moan move murder muse ne'er never night Nine worthy numbers nymph packhorse pain passions pining pity plaint poet Polesworth poor Corin praise prove Pygmalion queen quoth rage sad designs scorn shepherds sighs sight sing Sisyphus sith smart smile song sonnets sorrows soul spirit Styx sweet sweet reply Syrinx tears tell thee thou thou hast thou wilt thoughts thy beauty torments true unhappy unkind unto verse virtue wail weeping wherein Whilst WILLIAM SMITH wonder wont wound
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Стр. 70 - I have done, you get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes — Now, if thou would'st, when all have given him...
Стр. 15 - Where I to thee eternity shall give, When nothing else remaineth of these days, And queens hereafter shall be glad to live Upon the alms of thy superfluous praise ; Virgins and matrons reading these my rhymes, Shall be so much delighted with thy story, That they shall grieve they lived not in these times, To have seen thee, their sex's only glory.
Стр. 29 - AN evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still, Wherewith, alas, I have been long possessed! Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill, Nor give me once but one poor minute's rest. In me it speaks whether I sleep or wake ; And when by means to drive it out I try, With greater torments then it me doth take, And tortures me in most extremity. Before my face it lays down my despairs, And hastes me on unto a sudden death; Now tempting me to drown myself in tears, And then in sighing to give up my breath....
Стр. 60 - t please the Fates by their resistless force; Lastly, mine eyes amazedly have seen Essex's great fall, Tyrone his peace to gain, The quiet end of that...
Стр. 53 - Age rules my lines with wrinkles in my face ; Where, in the Map of all my Misery...
Стр. 99 - LY to her heart ! Hover about her heart ! With dainty kisses, mollify her heart ! Pierce with thy arrows, her obdurate heart ! With sweet allurements ever move her heart ! At midday and at midnight, touch her heart ! Be lurking closely, nestle about her heart ! With power (thou art a god !) command her heart ! Kindle thy coals of love about her heart ! Yea, even into thyself, transform her heart ! Ah, she must love ! Be sure thou have her heart ! And I must die, if thou have not her heart ! Thy bed...
Стр. 113 - Cupid's mount, that well beloved hill is, And where that little god himself is warden. See where my love sits in the beds of spices, Beset all round with camphor, myrrh, and roses, And interlaced with curious devices, Which her from all the world apart incloses.
Стр. 17 - Brow Defaced with wrinkles, that I might but see ! Thy dainty Hair, so curled and crisped now, Like grizzled moss upon some aged tree ! Thy Cheek, now flush with roses, sunk and lean ! Thy Lips, with age as any wafer thin ! Thy pearly Teeth, out of thy head so clean, That when thou feed'st, thy Nose shall touch thy Chin ! These Lines that now scornst, which should delight thee : Then would I make thee read, but to despite thee...
Стр. 51 - Passions' pain. Thus sundry men, their sundry minds repeat. I pass not, I, how men affected be ! Nor who commends or discommends my Verse ! It pleaseth me, if I my woes rehearse ! And in my lines, if She, my love may see ! Only my comfort still consists in this; Writing her praise, I cannot write amiss!
Стр. 46 - DEAR, why should you command me to my rest, When now the night doth summon all to sleep ? Methinks this time becometh lovers best; Night was ordained together friends to keep. How happy are all other living things, Which though the day disjoin by several flight, The quiet evening yet together brings, And each returns unto his love at night!