Beauty And The Beast – Charles Lamb

A Merchant, who by generous pains
Prospered in honourable gains,
Could boast, his wealth and fame to share,
Three manly Sons, three Daughters fair;
With these he felt supremely blest.-
His latest born surpass’d the rest:
She was so gentle, good and kind,
So fair in feature, form, and mind,
So constant too in filial duty,
The neighbours called her Little Beauty!
And when fair childhood’s days were run,
That title still she wore and won;
Lovelier as older still she grew,
Improv’d in grace and goodness too.-
Her elder Sisters, gay and vain,
View’d her with envy and disdain,
Toss’d up their heads with haughty air;
Dress, Fashion, Pleasure, all their care.

‘Twas thus, improving and improv’d;
Loving, and worthy to be lov’d,
Sprightly, yet grave, each circling day
Saw Beauty innocently gay.
Thus smooth the May-like moments past;
Blest times! but soon by clouds o’ercast!

Sudden as winds that madd’ning sweep
The foaming surface of the deep,
Vast treasures, trusted to the wave,
Were buried in the billowy grave!
Our Merchant, late of boundless store,
Saw Famine hasting to his door.

With willing hand and ready grace,
Mild Beauty takes the Servant’s place;
Rose with the sun to household cares,
And morn’s repast with zeal prepares,
The wholesome meal, the cheerful fire:
What cannot filial love inspire?
And when the task of day was done,
Suspended till the rising sun,
Music and song the hours employ’d,
As more deserv’d, the more enjoy’d;
Till Industry, with Pastime join’d,
Refresh’d the body and the mind;
And when the groupe retir’d to rest,
Father and Brothers Beauty blest.

Not so the Sisters; as before
‘Twas rich and idle, now ’twas poor.
In shabby finery array’d,
They still affected a parade:
While both insulted gentle Beauty,
Unwearied in the housewife’s duty;
They mock’d her robe of modest brown,
And view’d her with a taunting frown;
Yet scarce could hold their rage to see
The blithe effects of Industry.

In this retreat a year had past,
When happier tidings came at last,
And in the Merchant’s smile appear’d
Prospects that all the Cotters cheer’d:
A letter came; its purport good;
Part of his ventures brav’d the flood:
‘With speed,’ said he, ‘I must to town,
‘And what, my girls, must I bring down?’
The envious Sisters, all confusion,
Commissions gave in wild profusion;
Caps, hats, and bonnets, bracelets, broaches,
To cram the pockets of the coaches,
With laces, linens, to complete
The order, and to fill the seat.

Such wants and wishes now appear’d,
To make them larger Beauty fear’d;
Yet lest her silence might produce
From jealous Sisters more abuse,
Considerately good, she chose,
The emblem of herself,-a Rose.

The good man on his journey went,
His thoughts on generous Beauty bent.
‘If Heav’n,’ he said, and breath’d a prayer,
‘If Heav’n that tender child should spare,
‘Whate’er my lot, I must be bless’d,
‘I must be rich:’-he wept the rest.
Timely such feelings!-Fortune still,
Unkind and niggard, crost his will.
Of all his hopes, alas, the gains
Were far o’erbalanc’d by the pains;
For after a long tedious round,
He had to measure back his ground.

A short day’s travel from his Cot,
New misadventures were his lot;
Dark grew the air, the wind blew high,
And spoke the gathering tempest nigh;
Hail, snow, and night-fog join’d their force,
Bewildering rider and his horse.
Dismay’d, perplext, the road they crost,
And in the dubious maze were lost.

When glimmering through the vapours drear,
A taper shew’d a dwelling near.
And guess our Merchant’s glad surprise,
When a rich palace seemed to rise
As on he mov’d! The knee be bent,
Thankful to Heaven; then nearer went.

But, O! how much his wonder grew,
When nothing living met his view!-
Entering a splendid hall, he found,
With every luxury around,
A blazing fire, a plenteous board,
A costly cellaret, well stor’d,
All open’d wide, as if to say,
‘Stranger, refresh thee on thy way!’

The Merchant to the fire drew near,
Deeming the owner would appear,
And pardon one who, drench’d in rain,
Unask’d, had ventured to remain.
The court-yard clock had number’d seven,
When first he came; but when eleven
Struck on his ear as mute he sate,
It sounded like the knoll of Fate.

And yet so hungry was he grown,
He pick’d a capon to the bone;
And as choice wines before him stood,
He needs must taste if they were good:
So much he felt his spirits cheer’d-
The more he drank, the less he fear’d.

Now bolder grown, he pac’d along,
(Still hoping he might do no wrong),
When, entering at a gilded door,
High-rais’d upon a sumptuous floor,
A sofa shew’d all Persia’s pride,
And each magnificence beside:
So down at once the Merchant lay,
Tir’d with the wonders of the day.
But had it been a rushy bed,
Tuck’d in the corner of a shed,
With no less joy had it been press’d:
The good man pray’d, and sank to rest.

Nor woke he till the noon of day;
And as he thus enchanted lay,
‘Now for my storm-sopp’d clothes,’ he cries:
When lo! a suit complete he spies;
‘Yes, ’tis all fairy-work, no doubt,
‘By gentle Pity brought about!’
Tenfold, when risen, amazement grew;
For bursting on his gazing view,
Instead of snow, he saw fair bowers
In all the pride of summer flowers.
Entering again the hall, behold,
Serv’d up in silver, pearl, and gold,
A breakfast, form’d of all things rare,
As if Queen Mab herself were there.

As now he past, with spirits gay,
A shower of Roses strew’d the way,
E’en to his hand the branches bent:
‘One of these boughs-I go content!
‘Beauty, dear Beauty-thy request
‘If I may bear away, I’m blest.’
The Merchant pull’d-the branches broke!-
A hideous growling while he spoke,
Assail’d his startled ears; and then
A frightful Beast, as from a den,
Rushing to view, exclaimed, ‘Ingrate!
‘That stolen branch has seal’d thy fate.
‘All that my castle own’d was thine,
‘My food, my fire, my bed, my wine:
‘Thou robb’st my Rose-trees in return,
‘For this, base Plunderer, thou shalt mourn!’

‘My Lord, I swear upon my knees,
‘I did not mean to harm your trees;
‘But a lov’d Daughter, fair as spring,
‘Intreated me a Rose to bring;
‘O didst thou know, my lord, the Maid!’-

‘I am no Lord,’ Beast angry said,
‘And so no flattery!-but know,
‘If, on your oath before you go,
‘Within three wasted Moons you here
‘Cause that lov’d Daughter to appear,
‘And visit Beast a volunteer
‘To suffer for thee, thou mayest live:-
‘Speak not!-do this!-and I forgive.’
Mute and deprest the Merchant fled,
Unhappy traveller, evil sped!

Beauty was first her sire to meet,
Springing impatient from her seat;
Her Brothers next assembled round;
Her straying Sisters soon were found.
While yet the Father fondly press’d
The Child of Duty to his Breast,-
‘Accept these Roses, ill-starr’d Maid!
‘For thee thy Father’s life is paid.’

The Merchant told the tale of Beast;
And loud lamentings, when he ceas’d,
From both the jealous Sisters broke,
As thus with taunting rage they spoke:
‘And so thou kill’st thy Father, Miss,
‘Proud, sinful creature, heardst thou this?
‘We only wish’d a few new clothes;
‘Beauty, forsooth, must have her Rose!
‘Yet, harden’d Wretch, her eyes are dry,
‘Tho’ for her Pride our Sire must die!’

‘Die! Not for worlds!’ exclaim’d the Maid;
‘Beast kindly will take me instead:
‘And O, a thousand deaths I’d prove
‘To shew my Father how I love!’
The Brothers cried, ‘Let us away,
‘We’ll perish, or the Monster slay.’

‘Vain hope, my gen’rous Sons, his power
‘Can troops of men and horse devour:
‘Your offer, Beauty, moves my soul;
‘But no man can his fate controul:
‘Mine was the fault; you, Love, are free;
‘And mine the punishment shall be.’
Beauty was firm! the Sire caress’d
Again his Darling to his breast;
With blended love and awe survey’d,
And each good Brother blest the Maid!

Three months elaps’d, her Father’s heart
Heav’d high, as she prepar’d to part;
The Sisters try’d a tear to force,
While Beauty smil’d as she took horse;
Yet smil’d thro’ many a generous tear,
To find the parting moment near!
And just as evening’s shades came on,
The splendid Palace court they won.
Beauty, now lost in wonder all,
Gain’d with her Sire the spacious hall;
Where, of the costliest viands made,
Behold, a sumptuous table laid!
The Merchant, sickening at the sight,
Sat down with looks of dire affright,
But nothing touch’d; tho’ Beauty prest,
And strove to lull his fears to rest.

Just as she spoke, a hideous noise
Announc’d the growling monster’s voice.
And now Beast suddenly stalk’d forth,
While Beauty well nigh sank to earth:
Scarce could she conquer her alarms,
Tho’ folded in a father’s arms.
Grim Beast first question’d fierce, if she
Had hither journey’d willingly?
‘Yes,’ Beauty cried-in trembling tone:
‘That’s kind,’ said Beast, and thus went on-
‘Good Merchant, at to-morrow’s dawn,
‘I charge and warn you to be gone!
‘And further, on life’s penalty,
‘Dare not again to visit me.
‘Beauty, farewell!’ he now withdrew,
As she return’d the dread adieu.

Each then their separate pillow prest,
And slumber clos’d their eyes in rest.

As zephyr light, from magic sleep,
Soon as the sun began to peep,
Sprang Beauty; and now took her way
To where her anguish’d father lay,-
But envious time stole swiftly on;
‘Begone! lov’d Father! ah! begone!
‘The early dew now gems the thorn,
‘The sun-beams gain upon the morn.
‘Haste, Father, haste! Heaven guards the good!’
In wonder rapt the Merchant stood;
And while dread fears his thoughts employ,
A child so generous still was joy.
‘My Father’s safe!’ she cried, ‘blest Heaven!
‘The rest is light, this bounty given.’

She now survey’d th’ enchanting scene,
Sweet gardens of eternal green;
Mirrors, and chandeliers of glass,
And diamonds bright which those surpass;
All these her admiration gain’d;
But how was her attention chain’d,
When she in golden letters trac’d,
High o’er an arch of emeralds plac’d,
‘Beauty’s apartment! Enter, blest!
‘This, but an earnest of the rest!’

The fair one was rejoic’d to find,
Beast studied less her eye, than mind.
But, wishing still a nearer view,
Forth from the shelves a book she drew,
In whose first page, in lines of gold,
She might heart-easing words behold:
‘Welcome Beauty, banish fear!
‘You are Queen, and Mistress here:
‘Speak your wishes, speak your will,
‘Swift obedience meets them still.’

‘Alas!’ said she, with heartfelt sighs,
The daughter rushing to her eyes,
‘There’s nothing I so much desire,
‘As to behold my tender Sire.’

Beauty had scarce her wish express’d,
When it was granted by the Beast:
A wond’rous mirror to her eye,
Brought all her cottage family.
Here her good Brothers at their toil,
For still they dress’d the grateful soil;
And there with pity she perceiv’d,
How much for her the Merchant griev’d;
How much her Sisters felt delight
To know her banish’d from their sight,
Altho’ with voice and looks of guile,
Their bosoms full of joy the while,
They labour’d hard to force a tear,
And imitate a grief sincere.

At noon’s repast, she heard a sound
Breathing unseen sweet music round;
But when the evening board was spread,
The voice of Beast recall’d her dread:
‘May I observe you sup?’ he said;
‘Ah, tremble not; your will is law;
‘One question answer’d, I withdraw.-
‘Am I not hideous to your eyes?’
‘Your temper’s sweet,’ she mild replies.
‘Yes, but I’m ugly, have no sense:’-
‘That’s better far, than vain pretence.’-
‘Try to be happy, and at ease,’
Sigh’d Beast, ‘as I will try to please.’-
‘Your outward form is scarcely seen
‘Since I arriv’d, so kind you’ve been.’

One quarter of the rolling year,
No other living creature near,
Beauty with Beast had past serene,
Save some sad hours that stole between.
That she her Father’s life had sav’d,
Upon her heart of hearts was grav’d:
While yet she view’d the Beast with dread,
This was the balm that conscience shed.
But now a second solace grew,
Whose cause e’en conscience scarcely knew.
Here on a Monster’s mercy cast,-
Yet, when her first dire fears were past,
She found that Monster, timid, mild,
Led like the lion by the child.
Custom and kindness banish’d fear;
Beauty oft wish’d that Beast were near.

Nine was the chosen hour that Beast
Constant attended Beauty’s feast,
Yet ne’er presum’d to touch the food,
Sat humble, or submissive stood,
Or, audience crav’d, respectful spoke,
Nor aim’d at wit, or ribald joke,
But oftner bent the raptur’d ear
Or ravish’d eye, to see or hear.
And if th’ appointed hour pass’d by,
‘Twas marked by Beauty with a sigh.
‘Swear not to leave me,’ sigh’d the Beast:
‘I swear’-for now her fears were ceas’d,
‘And willing swear,-so now and then
‘I might my Father see again-
‘One little week-he’s now alone.’
‘Granted!’ quoth Beast: your will be done!’
‘Your Ring upon the table lay
‘At night,-you’re there at peep of day:
‘But oh,-remember, or I die!’
He gaz’d, and went without reply.

At early morn, she rang to rise;
The Maid beholds with glad surprise:
Summons her Father to her side,
Who, kneeling and embracing, cried,
With rapture and devotion wild,
‘O bless’d be Heaven, and blest my Child!’

Beauty the Father now address’d,
And strait to see her Sisters press’d.
They both were married, and both prov’d
Neither was happy or belov’d.
And when she told them she was blest
With days of ease, and nights of rest;
To hide the malice of the soul,
Into the garden sly they stole,
And there in floods of tears they vent
Their hate, and feel its punishment.
‘If,’ said the eldest, ‘you agree,
‘We’ll make that wench more curs’d than we!
‘I have a plot, my sister dear:
‘More than her week let’s keep her here.
‘No more with Monster shall she sup,
‘Who, in his rage, shall eat her up.’

And now such art they both employ’d,
While Beauty wept, yet was o’erjoy’d;
And when the stated hour was come,-
‘Ah! can you quit so soon your home?’
Eager they question’d-tore their hair-
And look’d the Pictures of Despair.
Beauty, tho’ blushing at delay,
Promis’d another week to stay.

Meantime, altho’ she err’d from love,
Her conscious heart could ill approve-
‘Thy vow was giv’n, thy vow was broke!’
Thus Conscience to her bosom spoke.

Thoughts such as these assail’d her breast,
And a sad vision broke her rest!
The palace-garden was the place,
Which her imaginations trace:
There, on a lawn, as if to die,
She saw poor Beast extended lie,
Reproaching with his latest breath
Beauty’s ingratitude in death.

Rous’d from her sleep, the contrite Maid
The Ring upon her toilette laid,
And Conscience gave a sound repose:
Balmy her rest; and when she rose,
The palace of poor Beast she found,
Groves, gardens, arbours, blooming round:
The morning shone in summer’s pride,
Beauty for fairer evening sigh’d-
Sigh’d for the object once so fear’d,
By worth, by kindness now endear’d.
But when had past the wonted hour,
And no wish’d footstep pass’d the door;-
When yet another hour lagg’d on,-
Then to the wide canal she ran:
‘For there in vision,’ said the fair,
‘Was stretch’d the object of my care!’
And there, alas! he now was found,
Extended on the flowery ground.
‘Ah! fond and faithful Beast,’ she cried,
‘Hast thou for me perfidious died?
‘O! could’st thou hear my fervid prayer,
”Twould ease the anguish of despair.’

Beast open’d now his long-clos’d eyes,
And saw the fair with glad surprise.
‘In my last moments you are sent;
‘You pity, and I die content.’
‘Thou shalt not die,’ rejoin’d the Maid;
‘O rather live to hate, upbraid-
‘But no! my grievous fault forgive!
‘I feel I can’t without thee live.’

Beauty had scarce pronounc’d the word,
When magic sounds of sweet accord,
The music of celestial spheres
As if from seraph harps she hears;
Amaz’d she stood,-new wonders grew;
For Beast now vanish’d from her view;
And, lo! a Prince, with every grace
Of figure, fashion, feature, face,
In whom all charms of Nature meet,
Was kneeling at fair Beauty’s feet.
‘But where is Beast?’ still Beauty cried:
‘Behold him here!’ the Prince replied.
‘Orasmyn, lady, is my name,
‘In Persia not unknown to fame;
‘Till this re-humanizing hour,
‘The victim of a Fairy’s pow’r;-
‘Till a deliverer could be found,
‘Who, while the accursed spell still bound,
‘Could first endure, tho’ with alarm,
‘And break at last by love the charm!’

Beauty delighted gave her hand,
And bade the Prince her fate command;
The Prince now led through rooms of state,
Where Beauty’s family await,
In bridal vestments all array’d,
By some superior power convey’d.

‘Beauty,’ pronounc’d a heavenly voice,
‘Now take from me your princely choice.
‘Virtue, to every good beside
‘While wit and beauty were denied,
‘Fix’d your pure heart! for which, unseen,
‘I led your steps; and now a Queen,
‘Seated on Persia’s glittering throne,
”Tis mine and Virtue’s task to crown!

‘But as for you, ye Sisters vain,
‘Still first and last in envy’s train,
‘Before fair Beauty’s Palace-gate,
‘Such Justice has decreed your fate,
‘Transform’d to statues you must dwell,
‘Curs’d with the single power, to feel-
‘Unless by penitence and prayer-
‘But this will ask long years of care,
‘Of promise and performance too,
‘A change of mind from false to true-
‘A change I scarce can hope from you.’

Instant the Power stretch’d forth her wand,
Her sceptre of supreme command,
When lo! at her resistless call,
Gay crowds came thronging through the hall,
The blissful hour to celebrate
When Persia’s Prince resum’d his state:
At once the dome with music rang,
And virgins danc’d, and minstrels sang;
It was the Jubilee of Youth,
Led on by Virtue and by Truth;
The pride of Persia fill’d the scene,
To hail Orasmyn and his Queen!

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The Old Familiar Faces – Charles Lamb

I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days–
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies–
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her–
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.

Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seem’d a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father’s dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces–

How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed–
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

To His Worthy Friend Doctor Witty Upon His Translation Of The Popular Errors – Andrew Marvell

Sit further, and make room for thine own fame,
Where just desert enrolles thy honour’d Name
The good Interpreter. Some in this task
Take of the Cypress vail, but leave a mask,
Changing the Latine, but do more obscure
That sence in English which was bright and pure.
So of Translators they are Authors grown,
For ill Translators make the Book their own.
Others do strive with words and forced phrase
To add such lustre, and so many rayes,
That but to make the Vessel shining, they
Much of the precious Metal rub away.
He is Translations thief that addeth more,
As much as he that taketh from the Store
Of the first Author. Here he maketh blots
That mends; and added beauties are but spots.
Caelia whose English doth more richly flow
Then Tagus, purer then dissolved snow,
And sweet as are her lips that speak it, she
Now learns the tongues of France and Italy;
But she is Caelia still: no other grace
But her own smiles commend that lovely face;
Her native beauty’s not Italianated,
Nor her chast mind into the French translated:
Her thoughts are English, though her sparkling wit
With other Language doth them fitly fit.
Translators learn of her: but stay I slide
Down into Error with the Vulgar tide;
Women must not teach here: the Doctor doth
Stint them to Cawdles Almond-milk, and Broth.
Now I reform, and surely so will all
Whose happy Eyes on thy Translation fall,
I see the people hastning to thy Book,
Liking themselves the worse the more they look,
And so disliking, that they nothing see
Now worth the liking, but thy Book and thee.
And (if I Judgement have) I censure right;
For something guides my hand that I must write.
You have Translations statutes best fulfil’d.
That handling neither sully nor would guild

Senec. Traged. Ex Thyeste Chor.2 – Andrew Marvell

Senec. Traged. ex Thyeste Chor.2.
Stet quicunque volet potens
Aulae culmine lubrico &c.

Climb at Court for me that will
Tottering favors Pinacle;
All I seek is to lye still.
Settled in some secret Nest
In calm Leisure let me rest;
And far of the publick Stage
Pass away my silent Age.
Thus when without noise, unknown,
I have liv’d out all my span,
I shall dye, without a groan,
An old honest Country man.
Who expos’d to others Ey’s,
Into his own Heart ne’r pry’s,
Death to him’s a Strange surprise

In The French Translation Of Lucan, By Monsieur De Brebeuf Are These Verses – Andrew Marvell

C’est de luy que nous vient cet Art ingenieux
De peindre la Parole, et deparler aua Yeux;
Et, parles traits divers de figures tracees,
Donner de la couleur et du corps aux pensees.

Clorinda And Damon – Andrew Marvell

C.
Damon come drive thy flocks this way.

D.
No : ’tis too late they went astray.

C.
I have a grassy Scutcheon spy’d,
Where Flora blazons all her pride.
The grass I aim to feast thy Sheep :
The Flow’rs I for thy Temples keep.

D.
Grass withers; and the Flow’rs too fade.

C.
Seize the short Joyes then, ere they vade.
Seest thou that unfrequented Cave ?

D.
That den?

C.
Loves Shrine.

D.
But Virtue’s Grave.

C.
In whose cool bosome we may lye
Safe from the Sun.

D.
Not Heaven’s Eye.

C.
Near this, a Fountaines liquid Bell
Tinkles within the concave Shell.

D.
Might a Soul bath there and be clean,
Or slake its Drought?

C.
What is ‘t you mean?

D.
These once had been enticing things,
Clorinda, Pastures, Caves, and Springs.

C.
And what late change?

D.
The other day
Pan met me.

C.
What did great Pan say?

D.
Words that transcend poor Shepherds skill,
But he ere since my Songs does fill:
And his Name swells my slender Oate.

C.
Sweet must Pan sound in Damons Note.

D.
Clorinda’s voice might make it sweet.

C.
Who would not in Pan’s Praises meet ?

Chorus
Of Pan the flowry pastures sing,
Caves eccho and the Fountains ring.
Sing then while he doth us inspire;
For all the world is our Pan’s Quire.

A Letter To Doctor Ingelo, Then With My Lord Whitlock, Ambassador From The Protector To The Queen Of Sweden – Andrew Marvell

What are you doing Arctoi most dear deserter, ye heavens, from 
Ingels is, alas, too late to have known only that, Bereft of quickly? 
Is it enough for the skins of the Star is an Irish are a champion, 
who, a moment, however soft, has not been well established for have you been? 
Commanded to the will of men, what is the nature of places, 
of human beings, Or tell me there might be some place? 
Whether serious jarring pole overwhelms everything falling 
Jungitur both Mundas and steep snow? 
Is better dog roam around the campus, 
amuï Agricola & returns orbit work? 
Inhabits, that is to say, more merciful than the rim of terrible intensity they are a nation, 
You Never Know, a watcher, War, full of courage, are just the Forum. 
In fact, are there, and as for the cities, and the lofty Palatine and of Kings, The 
Muses’ of the house, and of their own are temples of God. 
For people to be controlled, Christina confident
The laws can maiden men. 
Just as she draws a rigid metal mighty blasts, 
gandeo to issue an iron will follow. 
Tell me what is lawful for a fallacious to believe Fame, and, 
the lad with as to whether he may not admit more than one, or the sound of loquacious. 
But, if the truths of faith is come, from the rising of a better world, 
Unto the ages of the Christian there is no gain of a match. 
Although she returns (glory of our world) Eliza 
What is, however, how much of Eliza. 
We have seen an Image, mistasque of the Colors of the shadow of the: 
course is, moreover Sceptripotens, so they were also seen by the Goddess of. 
August decorate (rarely agreement) front 
Majesty & Love, Chastity form at the same time. 
Gustav in the mouth of a huge wind blows from the Virgin ‘: 
recognize the feelings, fulmineumque the Father.
He had shone so bright star in the sky; 
She does not blemish the nymph who earned the pole. 
Ah, how often trembling down Conscious Light, 
just as she feared Parrhasis Pray Dee! 
And, pretended they had not the Pictor, the image of the face of the false, 
Delia, is so similar to and he was not even herself. 
If they are, perhaps, that inornantur of Diana of the hair is, 
You are anxious, but whereof we are to be distributed together with a Needle. 
Of course, that is, that no man was ever more respectful of equity; 
Not even the law carries no locks. 
Glory woods are both common to both 
is and constant honor of virginity. 
In this way, too, of the Nymphs, appears above the ranks of the neck, 
And raises his Choros Cynthus by means of Frames, by means of the Snows. 
In like manner, The bow of the contracts formed the letters even more difficult 
with sharp weapons to be subject, however, to the eyes, you would think.
Lights to doubt whether straverit an arrow 
which would be worn by steep hills wild. 
Hercules shoulders covered with skin Nemaea 
Not very unsteady world burden lifted. 
Oh the necks of breast subjoin such. 
Cold, ice, snow. 
The rest I was not allowed to, but I hardly call them their wholes, do not see; 
For Chau if the hard inexorable adamant Bay. 
The artist added, shawl or ceded too much, 
so they need less escapes odd, 
or three forward victorious fight deäbus, 
the price of forms and stripped of its own. 
Juno and Minerva Trophaea advance and bright; 
For Friday prizes to know the soft tire. 
Hence one inquired of the fugitivae, prodigal of its forms, 
Nectimuit, vigilance, the books of the locks.
Insomma the Nymphs, warning him of his followers as often as he 
will not quit, Ah, the color of the rosy cheeks. 
When they awoke the easy way nightingale rest, 
all fell silent forests and wild. 
However, the sharper it continues cares fatigues 
advantage of doctors to undergo written virus. 
The bidder has to learn to control Kingdom 
What is it and what does not recognize whatever happens. 
It offends the Goth in the liberal arts 
, challenge and purifies One of their studies. 
Example responsive to imitate the famed, 
twin baby absorbs Pray sounds. 
With a transposition of Suecis you believe that the lot of the Latins, 
Carmine ROMULEO so it is noisy with all the Grove. 
Is mentioned on equal terms and not in Athens, the ancient Upsala, 
and AEgis & The chariots of Pallas, this man has his own.
Oh, hoped to be allowed to be driven like Liquors, 
When Dee is presiding over the sacred sources? 
There Milk rush there and winding, 
bind their golden touch Sand Salam. 
Upsalides Muse now greater and cones, 
which now whose reputation took a gentle breeze. 
Not any credible believes Christ is their 
secret, two of the most reputable. 
Each one is quite cheaply and the description is the name of the, always, 
is not less sculptures than the chest not sure, does not matter. 
The only virgin feeds the flame, 
and allowed hearts continue to solve the fireplace. 
Christina hallowed at you, his account of the chronicles of the Saints, 
the only daughter of the Virgin of Volsiniensis, nor will be. 
Learn now rule (near Majesty of heaven) 
learn oh great here dressing gods.
Ah, be ashamed to tanita childish to imagine that begin with you, 
will remove those I do not know which, the wealth of the & with bad intent. 
Horse all the while unaware that the British, 
he must know defenseless prey to follow. 
But the German has asked to drive the eagle nest, 
and make the Palatine Hill to drive places. 
You can even tie to the prey, widespread in the Campos, 
Impiaque arctatis and surround yourself Thirty quarters more. 
Victor Oliver bare head stretches arms 
to lead or to follow the noble sadness again. 
What manner of man is now Senior tom of Godfredus to the Castles, 
a thorn in bloom And the dog made a white hair. 
It can solve the burr Christine Finn, 
last blasts of prison bars had a large area. 
Aeolian do like the wind caves, 
and try to have seized mount delays.
This Dee if the sinks in a storm Fortress 
how serious the Austrian Hesperiisque fall 
All things long ago, on his return told things, but He Himself; 
I hope times that are far from returning, it asks for. 
The words of this condition there is a slow dead tired, are tightened by the cold, 
the Suns, and at last, Of a truth materials dissolved in a new form. 
But the strong rays of the winter Queen burns 
And this solves rather than binding on the pole. 
It is sad and he heard our labors, 
strong and free-Nation loved the faith. 
Give an ear of the offering is barbarous, nor to peace and lendeth; 
Nor is it that turns the insidious wiles of the Danes. 
But faithful hastened the change treaty matters 
of freedom that rules loves. 
Solomon also deserve could pay back office, 
and those tall concrete Frankincense cremasset trek.
This is your own, but it is better, has celebrated the Ingels, a banana; 
The work shall be paid lyre. 
We will vain Thames saliceta without a roof, 
and the scattered crowd wander through a barren fields. 
They are tempting responds to complaints Oats: 
Nay, Roger flew faith. 
Mindful of this, however, is not present, dictate with a friend, 
Grataque we hope will be of whatever kind.

The Definition Of Love – Andrew Marvell

My Love is of a birth as rare
As ’tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by despair
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone.
Could show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble Hope could ne’r have flown
But vainly flapt its Tinsel Wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended Soul is fixt,
But Fate does Iron wedges drive,
And alwaies crouds it self betwixt.

For Fate with jealous Eye does see.
Two perfect Loves; nor lets them close:
Their union would her ruine be,
And her Tyrannick pow’r depose.

And therefore her Decrees of Steel
Us as the distant Poles have plac’d,
(Though Loves whole World on us doth wheel)
Not by themselves to be embrac’d.

Unless the giddy Heaven fall,
And Earth some new Convulsion tear;
And, us to joyn, the World should all
Be cramp’d into a Planisphere.

As Lines so Loves Oblique may well
Themselves in every Angle greet:
But ours so truly Paralel,
Though infinite can never meet.

Therefore the Love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debarrs,
Is the Conjunction of the Mind,
And Opposition of the Stars.

A Dialogue Between The Soul And Body – Andrew Marvell

Soul
O Who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
A Soul inslav’d so many wayes?
With bolts of Bones, that fetter’d stands
In Feet ; and manacled in Hands.
Here blinded with an Eye ; and there
Deaf with the drumming of an Ear.
A Soul hung up, as ’twere, in Chains
Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins.
Tortur’d, besides each other part,1
In a vain Head, and double Heart.

Body
O who shall me deliver whole,
From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?
Which, stretcht upright, impales me so,
That mine own Precipice I go;
And warms and moves this needless Frame:
(A Fever could but do the same.)
And, wanting where its spight to try,
Has made me live to let me dye.
A Body that could never rest,
Since this ill Spirit it possest.

Soul
What Magic could me thus confine
Within anothers Grief to pine?
Where whatsoever it complain,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain.
And all my Care its self employes,
That to preserve, which me destroys:
Constrain’d not only to indure
Diseases, but, whats worse, the Cure:
And ready oft the Port to gain,
Am Shipwrackt into Health again.

Body
But Physick yet could never reach
The Maladies Thou me dost teach;
Whom first the Cramp of Hope does Tear:
And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear.
The Pestilence of Love does heat :
Or Hatred’s hidden Ulcer eat.
Joy’s chearful Madness does perplex:
Or Sorrow’s other Madness vex.
Which Knowledge forces me to know;
And Memory will not foregoe.
What but a Soul could have the wit
To build me up for Sin so fit?
So Architects do square and hew,
Green Trees that in the Forest grew.

Bermudas – Andrew Marvell

Where the remote Bermudas ride
In th’ Oceans bosome unespy’d,
From a small Boat, that row’d along,
The listning Winds receiv’d this Song.
What should we do but sing his Praise
That led us through the watry Maze,
Unto an Isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?
Where he the huge Sea-Monsters wracks,
That lift the Deep upon their Backs.
He lands us on a grassy stage;
Safe from the Storms, and Prelat’s rage.
He gave us this eternal Spring,
Which here enamells every thing;
And sends the Fowl’s to us in care,
On daily Visits through the Air,
He hangs in shades the Orange bright,
Like golden Lamps in a green Night.
And does in the Pomgranates close,
Jewels more rich than Ormus show’s.
He makes the Figs our mouths to meet;
And throws the Melons at our feet.
But Apples plants of such a price,
No Tree could ever bear them twice.
With Cedars, chosen by his hand,
From Lebanon, he stores the Land.
And makes the hollow Seas, that roar,
Proclaime the Ambergris on shoar.
He cast (of which we rather boast)
The Gospels Pearl upon our coast.
And in these Rocks for us did frame
A Temple, where to sound his Name.
Oh let our Voice his Praise exalt,
Till it arrive at Heavens Vault:
Which thence (perhaps) rebounding, may
Eccho beyond the Mexique Bay.
Thus sung they, in the English boat,
An holy and a chearful Note,
And all the way, to guide their Chime,
With falling Oars they kept the time.