The British Poets, Том 2

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Little, Brown & Company, 1866
 

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Страница 6 - Since ghost there is none to affright thee. 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 280 - It is to fast from strife, From old debate And hate To circumcise thy life. To show a heart grief-rent ; To starve thy sin, Not bin ; And that's to keep thy Lent.
Страница 29 - To Electra. I DARE not ask a kiss, I dare not beg a smile ; Lest having that or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air That lately kissed thee.
Страница 200 - mongst all, thou find'st here one Worthy thy benediction, That one of all the rest shall be The glory of my work and me. TO FINDE GOD. me the fire ; or canst thou find A way to measure out the wind ; Distinguish all those floods that are Mixt in that...
Страница 213 - 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 116 - KINDLE the Christmas Brand, and then Till Sunne-set, let it burne; Which quencht, then lay it up agen, Till Christmas next returne. Part must be kept wherewith to teend The Christmas Log next yeare; And where 'tis safely kept, the Fiend, Can do no mischiefe (there.) E Upon Candlemasse day ND now the White-loafe, & the Pye, And let all sports with Christmas dye.
Страница 215 - Lord, thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell ; A little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof...
Страница 79 - Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing ; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts
Страница 122 - 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 Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Страница 212 - 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!

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