Songs & Sonnets of Pierre de Ronsard

الغلاف الأمامي
Houghton Mifflin & Company, 1903 - 137 من الصفحات
 

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الصفحة 131 - Soles occidere et redire possunt: nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux, nox est perpetua una dormienda.
الصفحة 45 - Arisel come see the tender grass besprent With dew-pearls, and your rose with blossoms brave. Come see the dainty pinks to which you gave Last eve their water with a care so quaint. Last eve you swore and pledged your shining eyes Sooner than I this morning you would rise, But dawn's soft beauty-sleep, with sweet disguising, Still gently seals those eyes— that now I kiss And now again— and now this breast, and this, A hundred times, to teach you early rising!
الصفحة 24 - Avant qu Amour du Chaos ocieux Ere Love from barren Chaos drew the skies, Piercing its womb that hid the light of day, Beneath primaeval earth's and water's sway The shapeless Heavens lay whelmed, in dark disguise. Even so my sluggish soul, too dull to rise, Within this body's gross and heavy clay Without or form or feature shapeless lay Until Love's arrow pierced it from your eyes. Love brought me life and power and truth and light, Made pure my inmost heart through his control, And shaped my being...
الصفحة 70 - ... winding thread, You'll sing my lines, and say, astonished: Ronsard made these for me, when I was fair. Then not a servant even, with toil and care Almost out-worn, hearing what you have said, Shall fail to start awake and lift her head And bless your name with deathless praise fore'er. My bones shall lie in earth, and my poor ghost Take its long rest where Love's dark myrtles thrive. You, crouching by the fire, old, shrunken, grey, Shall rue your proud disdain and my love lost.
الصفحة 53 - mongst the dead I'd pass by and disdain thee, Thee, once my lover! Thy skull shall know nor hair nor skin, Thy jowl the worms shall fatten, Erstwhile so winning ; Thou'lt have no other teeth within Thy jaws but such as batten In death's-heads grinning . . . Sweet, while we live, oh! seize today, And every respite using, Spare not thy kisses ! Soon, soon, Death comes, and then for aye Thou'lt rue thy cold refusing And mourn lost...
الصفحة 37 - I've done, I swear you'll have somewhat to rue! No! not the servant, nor your mate, nor you Shall come to make the bed or clean the floor. I must have three good quiet days — or four. Then I'll make merry for a week or two.
الصفحة 9 - To think one thought a hundred hundred ways, 'Neath two loved eyes to lay your heart quite bare, To drink the bitter liquor of despair And eat forever ashes of lost days— In spirit and flesh to know youth's bloom decays, To die of pain, yet swear no pain is there, The more you sue, to move the less your fair, Yet make her wish, the law your life obeys— Anger that passes, faith that cannot move; Far dearer than yourself your foe to love; To build a thousand vain imaginings, To long to plead, yet...
الصفحة 26 - I dragged my life along with sullen sighs In heaviness of body and of soul, Knowing not yet the Muse's high control And honor that she brings her votaries, Until the hour I loved you. Then your eyes Became my guide to lead to virtue's goal, Where I might win that knowledge fair and whole Which by true loving makes men nobly wise. O love, my all, if aught of good I do, If worthily of your dear eyes I write, You are the cause, yours is the potency. My perfect grace comes ever but from you, You are...
الصفحة 110 - And take my leave of life's best days, for oh! how long! . . . Yet I have lived. So much stands safe beyond recall. I grudge not life its joys. I have tasted one and all, Nor e'er refrained my hand from pleasures within reach, Save but as Reason set due measure unto each. The part assigned me I have played on this life's stage In costume fitted to the times and to my age. I've seen the morning dawn, and evening come again. I've seen the storm, the lightning-flash, the...
الصفحة 45 - Marie, arise, my indolent sweet saint! Long since the skylark sang his morning stave, Long since the nightingale, love's gentle slave, Carolled upon the thorn his love-complaint. Arise! come see the tender grass besprent With dew-pearls, and your rose with blossoms brave. Come see the dainty pinks to which you gave Last eve their water with a care so quaint. Last eve you swore and pledged your shining eyes Sooner than I this morning you would rise, But dawn's soft beauty-sleep...

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