The Poetry of George Wither, Том 2A.H. Bullen, 1902 |
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affection ALRESFORD beauty beauty's behold Bentworth bestow'd blest brave breast Charles Lamb creatures dare dear delight desire despair disdain doth e'er earth espy esteem excellence eyes fair fairest fame favour fear fools fortune gain'd GEORGE WITHER give gleek glory grace grief grieve groves grow Gutch hath hear heart height hills honour hope kiss LABOURS OF HERCULES ladies leave lips live look love's lover matchless merry mind thou thy mistress move Muse ne'er never nigh noble nought nymphs passions perfection Philaret plain pleasures poor praise prove reason rest rich safety thou love scorn seem'd shepherd sighs sing smile Solitary rocks song SONNET sorrow soul strain sung swain sweet tears tell thee There's things thou thy Maker thought thousand tongue true Twelve labours Twill unto virtue wanton weep Whilst Wither worth youth
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Стр. 126 - And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Стр. 179 - With droppings of the barrel; And those that hardly all the year Had bread to eat or rags to wear, Will have both clothes and dainty fare, And all the day be merry.
Стр. 178 - SO now is come our joyful'st feast; Let every man be jolly, Each room with ivy leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry. Now, all our neighbours...
Стр. 181 - Because they will be merry. Then wherefore in these merry days, Should we, I pray, be duller ? No, let us sing some roundelays To make our mirth the fuller. And...
Стр. 125 - Shall I wasting in Despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care, Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the Day, Or the Flowery Meads in May; If she be not so to me, What care I, how fair she be.
Стр. 180 - Drab and dice their lands away, Which may be ours another day; And therefore let's be merry. The client now his suit forbears, The prisoner's heart is eased; The debtor drinks away his cares, And for the time is pleased. Though others purses be more fat, Why should we pine or grieve at that ? Hang sorrow!
Стр. 28 - Pedants shall not tie my strains To our antique poets' veins, As if we in latter days Knew to love, but not to praise. Being born as free as these, I will sing as I shall please, Who as well new paths may run, As the best before have done.
Стр. 74 - Her true beauty leaves behind Apprehensions in my mind Of more sweetness, than all art Or inventions can impart. Thoughts too deep to be expressed, And too strong to be suppress'd. LETTERS, UNDER ASSUMED SIGNATURES, PUBLI SHED IN THE REFLECTOR. LETTERS. THE LONDONER. TO THE EDITOR OF THE REFLECTOR.
Стр. 92 - My spirit loathes Where gaudy clothes And feigned oaths may love obtain. I love Her so Whose look swears No, That all your labours will be vain. Can he prize the tainted posies Which on every breast are worn, That may pluck the spotless roses From their never-touched thorn ? I can go rest On her sweet breast That is the pride of Cynthia's train : Then hold your tongues, Your Mermaid songs Are all bestowed on me in vain.
Стр. 125 - Cause I see a woman kind ? Or a well disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature ? Be she meeker, kinder, than Turtle-dove or pelican: If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be ? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love?