1 min read
Слушать(AI)You charmd me not with that fair face
You charm'd me not with that fair face Though it was all divine: To be another's is the grace, That makes me wish you mine. The Gods and Fortune take their part Who like young monarchs fight; And boldly dare invade that heart Which is another's right. First mad with hope we undertake To pull up every bar; But once possess'd, we faintly make A dull defensive war. Now every friend is turn'd a foe In hope to get our store: And passion makes us cowards grow, Which made us brave before.
John Henry Dryden
John Dryden (/ˈdraɪdən/; 19 August [O.S. 9 August] 1631 – 12 May [O.S. 1 May] 1700) was an English poet, literary critic, translator, and playw
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Upon the Death of Lord Hastings
Must noble Hastings immaturely die, The honour of his ancient family, Beauty and learning thus together meet, To bring a winding for a wedding sheet
Mac Flecknoe A Satire upon the True-blue Protestant Poet T
All human things are subject to decay, And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey: This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long: In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute Through all the realms of...
Song From An Evenings Love
After the pangs of a desperate lover, When day and night I have sighed all in vain, Ah, what a pleasure it is to In her eyes pity, who causes my pain
Epitaph on Mrs Margaret Paston of Barningham in Norfolk
So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet, So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit, Require at least an age in one to meet In her they met; but long they could not stay, 'Twas gold too fine to fix without allay