A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

American poetry; English poetry

When thou shalt attain thy prime,                                 40
    And thy bosom feel desire,
    Love the likeness of thy sire,
    One ordained through life to prove
    Still thy glory, still thy love.
    Like thy sister, and like thee,                                   45
    Let thy nurtured daughters be:
    Semblance of the fair who bore thee,
    Trace the pattern set before thee.
    Where the Liffy meets the main,
    Has thy sister heard my strain:                                   50
    From the Liffy to the Thames,
    Minstrel echoes, sing their names,
    Wafting to the willing ear
    Many a cadence sweet to hear,
    Smooth as gently breathing gales                                  55
    O’er the ocean and the vales,
    While the vessel calmly glides
    O’er the level glassy tides,
    While the summer flowers are springing,
    And the new-fledged birds are singing.                            60
              _Ambrose Philips._




CLII

_THE DYING LOVER._


    Dear Love, let me this evening die,
      Oh smile not to prevent it;
    Dead with my rivals let me lie,
      Or we shall both repent it.
    Frown quickly then, and break my heart,                            5
      That so my way of dying
    May, though my life was full of smart,
      Be worth the world’s envying.

    Some, striving knowledge to refine,
      Consume themselves with thinking;                               10
    And some, who friendship seal in wine,
      Are kindly killed with drinking.
    And some are wrecked on the Indian coast,
      Thither by gain invited;
    Some are in smoke of battle lost,                                 15
      Whom drums, not lutes, delighted.

    Alas! how poorly these depart,
      Their graves still unattended!
    Who dies not of a broken heart
      Is not of Death commended.                                      20
    His memory is only sweet,
      All praise and pity moving,
    Who kindly at his mistress’ feet
      Does die with over-loving.

    And now thou frown’st, and now I die,                             25
      My corpse by lovers followed;
    Which straight shall by dead lovers lie;
      That ground is only hallowed.
    If priests are grieved I have a grave,
      My death not well approving,                                    30
    The poets my estate shall have,
      To teach them the Art of Loving.

    And now let lovers ring their bells
      For me, poor youth departed,
    Who kindly in his love excels,                                    35
      By dying broken-hearted.
    My grave with flowers let lovers strow,
      Which, if thy tears fall near them,
    May so transcend in scent and show,
      As thou wilt shortly wear them.                                 40

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

American poetry; English poetry

When thou shalt attain thy prime,                                 40
    And thy bosom feel desire,
    Love the likeness of thy sire,
    One ordained through life to prove
    Still thy glory, still thy love.
    Like thy sister, and like thee,                                   45
    Let thy nurtured daughters be:
    Semblance of the fair who bore thee,
    Trace the pattern set before thee.
    Where the Liffy meets the main,
    Has thy sister heard my strain:                                   50
    From the Liffy to the Thames,
    Minstrel echoes, sing their names,
    Wafting to the willing ear
    Many a cadence sweet to hear,
    Smooth as gently breathing gales                                  55
    O’er the ocean and the vales,
    While the vessel calmly glides
    O’er the level glassy tides,
    While the summer flowers are springing,
    And the new-fledged birds are singing.                            60
              _Ambrose Philips._




CLII

_THE DYING LOVER._


    Dear Love, let me this evening die,
      Oh smile not to prevent it;
    Dead with my rivals let me lie,
      Or we shall both repent it.
    Frown quickly then, and break my heart,                            5
      That so my way of dying
    May, though my life was full of smart,
      Be worth the world’s envying.

    Some, striving knowledge to refine,
      Consume themselves with thinking;                               10
    And some, who friendship seal in wine,
      Are kindly killed with drinking.
    And some are wrecked on the Indian coast,
      Thither by gain invited;
    Some are in smoke of battle lost,                                 15
      Whom drums, not lutes, delighted.

    Alas! how poorly these depart,
      Their graves still unattended!
    Who dies not of a broken heart
      Is not of Death commended.                                      20
    His memory is only sweet,
      All praise and pity moving,
    Who kindly at his mistress’ feet
      Does die with over-loving.

    And now thou frown’st, and now I die,                             25
      My corpse by lovers followed;
    Which straight shall by dead lovers lie;
      That ground is only hallowed.
    If priests are grieved I have a grave,
      My death not well approving,                                    30
    The poets my estate shall have,
      To teach them the Art of Loving.

    And now let lovers ring their bells
      For me, poor youth departed,
    Who kindly in his love excels,                                    35
      By dying broken-hearted.
    My grave with flowers let lovers strow,
      Which, if thy tears fall near them,
    May so transcend in scent and show,
      As thou wilt shortly wear them.                                 40

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

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