The poetical works of Andrew Marvell: With a memoir of the author

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Little, Brown and company, 1857 - English poetry - 335 pages
 

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Page 118 - While all the flowers and trees do close To weave the garlands of repose! Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men: Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow; Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress
Page 55 - My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate.
Page 56 - That long preserved virginity: And your quaint honour turn to dust; And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace.
Page 120 - Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside. My soul into the boughs does glide; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Page 138 - While round the armed bands Did clap their bloody hands. He nothing common did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene. But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try : Nor called the gods with vulgar spite To vindicate his helpless right ; But bowed his comely head Down, as upon a bed.
Page 55 - TO HIS COY MISTRESS Had we but world enough and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way To walk and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side 5 Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain.
Page 41 - 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, Proclaim the ambergris on shore.
Page 119 - What wond'rous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine, and curious peach, Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Page 48 - Even beasts must be with justice slain; Else men are made their deodands. Though they should wash their guilty hands In this warm life-blood which doth part From thine, and wound me to the heart, Yet could they not be clean; their stain Is dyed in such a purple grain. There is not such another in The world, to offer for their sin.
Page 136 - Did thorough his own side His fiery way divide; For 'tis all one to courage high, The emulous or enemy...

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