Caricamento in corso...

Comus (Excerpts)

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   Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv’st unseen
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      Within thy airy shell
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      By slow Meander’s margent green,
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    And in the violet-imbroider’d vale
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      Where the love-lorn nightingale
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  Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:
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  Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
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      That likest thy Narcissus are?
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      O if thou have
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      Hid them in some flow’ry cave,
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      Tell me but where
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    Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere,
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    So mayst thou be translated to the skies,
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  And give resounding grace to all heav’ns harmonies.
 
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   Sabrina fair
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    Listen where thou art sitting
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  Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
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    In twisted braids of lilies knitting
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  The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
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    Listen for dear honour’s sake,
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    Goddess of the silver lake,
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       Listen and save.
 
 
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   Listen and appear to us
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  In name of great Oceanus,
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  By the earth-shaking Neptune’s mace,
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  And Tethys’ grave majestic pace;
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  By hoary Nereus’ wrinkled look,
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  And the Carpathian wizard’s hook;
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  By scaly Triton’s winding shell,
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  And old soothsaying Glaucus’ spell;
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  By Leucothea’s lovely hands,
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  And her son that rules the strands;
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  By Thetis’ tinsel-slipper’d feet,
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  And the songs of Sirens sweet;
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  By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb,
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  And fair Ligea’s golden comb,
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  Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks
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  Sleeking her soft alluring locks;
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  By all the nymphs that nightly dance
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  Upon thy streams with wily glance,
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  Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
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  From thy coral-pav’n bed,
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  And bridle in thy headlong wave,
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  Till thou our summons answer’d have.
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       Listen and save.
 
 
SABRINA RISES, ATTENDED BY WATER-NYMPHS, AND SINGS
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    By the rushy-fringed bank,
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  Where grows the willow and the osier dank,
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    My sliding chariot stays,
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  Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen
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  Of turkis blue, and em’rald green
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    That in the channel strays,
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  Whilst from off the waters fleet
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  Thus I set my printless feet
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  O’er the cowslip’s velvet head,
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    That bends not as I tread;
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  Gentle swain at thy request
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    I am here.
Altre opere di John Milton...



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