The poetical works of Edmund Waller and sir John Denham, with mem. and critical dissertation by G. Gilfillan

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Seite 249 - That servile path thou nobly dost decline Of tracing word by word, and line by line : A new and nobler way thou dost pursue, To make translations, and translators too : They but preserve the ashes, thou the flame, True to his sense, but truer to his fame.
Seite 27 - ON A GIRDLE. THAT which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind : No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this has done.
Seite 143 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Seite 190 - O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
Seite 144 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired ; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Seite 31 - Some other nymphs, with colours faint^ And pencil slow, may Cupid paint, And a weak heart in time destroy ; She has a stamp, and prints the boy; Can, with a single look, inflame The coldest breast, the rudest tame.
Seite 202 - But his proud head the airy mountain hides among the clouds ; his shoulders and his sides a shady mantle clothes ; his curled brows frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows, while winds and storms his lofty forehead beat; the common fate of all that's high or great.
Seite 27 - ... temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done. It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer; My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.
Seite 249 - No flight for thoughts, but poorly stick at words, A new and nobler way thou dost pursue, To make translations and translators too, They but preserve the ashes; thou the flame, True to his sense, but truer to his fame.
Seite 199 - But to be restless in a worse extreme ? And for that lethargy was there no cure But to be cast into a calenture ; Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance So far, to make us wish for ignorance...

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