Clorinda And Damon
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
Safe from the Sun.
D.
Not Heaven's Eye.
C.
Near this, a Fountaines liquid
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
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 ?
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.
Andrew Marvell
Other author posts
In The French Translation Of Lucan By Monsieur De Brebeuf
C'est de luy que nous vient cet Art De peindre la Parole, et deparler aua Yeux; Et, parles traits divers de figures tracees, Donner de la couleur et du corps aux pensees
On A Drop Of Dew
See how the Orient Dew, Shed from the Bosom of the Into the blowing Roses, Yet careless of its Mansion new;
Musics Empire
First was the world as one great cymbal made, Where jarring winds to infant Nature played All music was a solitary sound, To hollow rocks and murm'ring fountains bound
To His Coy Mistress
Had we but World enough, and Time, This coyness Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.
