#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
Immortal clothing I put on So soon as, Julia, I am gone To mine eternal mansion. Thou, thou art here, to human sigh… Clothed all with incorrupted light…
Give way, give way, ye gates, and… An easy blessing to your bin And basket, by our entering in. May both with manchet stand replet… Your larders, too, so hung with me…
SWEET western wind, whose luck i… Made rival with the air, To give Perenna’s lip a kiss, And fan her wanton hair: Bring me but one, I’ll promise th…
A funeral stone Or verse, I covet none; But only crave Of you that I may have A sacred laurel springing from my…
—AND, cruel maid, because I see You scornful of my love, and me, I’ll trouble you no more, but go My way, where you shall never know What is become of me; there I
Bell-man of night, if I about sha… For to deny my Master, do thou cr… Thou stop’st Saint Peter in the m… Stay me, by crowing, ere I do beg… Better it is, premonish’d, for to…
HERE a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall
IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When I lie within my bed,
Julia, I bring To thee this ring, Made for thy finger fit; To show by this That our love is
Till I shall come again, let this… I send my salt, my sacrifice To thee, thy lady, younglings, and… As to thy Genius and thy Lar; To the worn threshold, porch, hall…
Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in paradise; For her beauty, it was such, Poets could not praise too much. Virgins come, and in a ring
Wanton wenches do not bring For my hairs black colouring: For my locks, girls, let 'em be Grey or white, all’s one to me.
Sea-born goddess, let me be By thy son thus graced, and thee, That whene’er I woo, I find Virgins coy, but not unkind. Let me, when I kiss a maid,
Kindle the Christmas brand, and t… Till sunset let it burn; Which quench’d, then lay it up aga… Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept, wherewith to te…
Sweet Amarillis, by a spring’s Soft and soul-melting murmurings, Slept; and thus sleeping, thither… A Robin-red-breast; who at view, Not seeing her at all to stir,