Hesperides: Or, The Works Both Humane and Divine of Robert Herrick ...

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Little, Brown, 1856 - 298 страници

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Страница 217 - LORD ! Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell; A little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof; Under the spars of which, I lie Both soft and dry. Where Thou, my chamber for to ward, Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me, while I sleep. Low is my Porch, as is my fate, Both void of State; And yet the threshold of my door Is worn by th' poor; Who thither come, and freely get Good words, or meat.
Страница 215 - Cause my speech is now decayed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When, God knows, I'm tossed about Either with despair or doubt, Yet, before the glass be out, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
Страница 8 - Then let not the dark thee cumber; What though the moon does slumber, The stars of the night Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear without number. "Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me: And when I shall meet Thy silvery feet, My soul I'll pour into thee.
Страница 8 - Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Страница 218 - Which of thy kindness thou hast sent; And my content Makes those, and my beloved beet, To be more sweet.
Страница 235 - No boisterous winds or storms come hither, To starve or wither Thy soft sweet earth, but like a spring Love keep it ever flourishing.
Страница 124 - Ah Ben! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ; Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad? And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.
Страница 214 - 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, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit comfort me!
Страница 43 - I'le drink to the Garlands a-round it : But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
Страница 55 - I've none, A cock I have to sing how day draws on: I have A maid, my Prue, by good luck sent, To save That little, Fates me gave or lent. A hen I keep, which, creeking day by day, Tells when She goes her long white egg to lay: A goose I have, which, with a jealous ear, Lets loose Her tongue, to tell what danger's near.