Andrew Marvell

Andrew Marvell

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Andrew Marvell (31 March 1621 – 16 August 1678) was an English Metaphysical poet, satirist and politician who sat in the House of Commons at various times between 1659 and 1678.
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Farfacio
Cernis ut ingenti distinguant limite
Montis Amos clivi Bilboreique juga
Ille stat indomitus turritis undisque saxis:
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Heark how the Mower Damon Sung,
With love of Juliana stung
While ev'ry thing did seem to
The Scene more fit for his complaint
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My Love is of a birth as
As 'tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by
Upon Impossibility
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Nature had long a Treasure
Of all her choisest store;
Fearing, when She should be decay'd,
To beg in vain for more
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Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold,
Leaves the new World and hastens for the old:
But though the wind was fair, the slowly
Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:
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You, that decipher out the
Of humane Off-springs from the Skies,
What mean these Infants which of
Spring from the Starrs of Chlora's Eyes
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The wanton Troopers riding
Have shot my Faun and it will dye
Ungentle men
They cannot
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Charissimo
Edmundo
Posuimus Pater &
Frustra superstites
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When I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold,
In slender Book his vast Design unfold,
Messiah Crown'd,
Gods Reconcil'd Decree,
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SoulO Who shall, from this Dungeon, raiseA Soul inslav'd so many wayes
With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd
In Feet ; and manacled in Hands
Here blinded with an Eye ; and
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Ye living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does sit so late, And studying all the summer night, Her matchless songs does meditate; Ye county comets, that portend No war nor prince's funeral, Shining unto no higher end Than to presage the...
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Daphnis must from Chloe part:
Now is come the dismal
That must all his Hopes devour,
All his Labour, all his Art
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Ingeniosa Viris contingunt Nomina magnis,
Ut dubites Casu vel Ratione data
Nam Sors, caeca licet, tamen est praesaga futuri;
Et sub fatidico Nomine vera premit
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To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an Enemy,
In whom both Beauties to my death agree,
Joyning themselves in fatal Harmony;
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Holland, that scarce deserves the name of Land,
As but th'Off-scouring of the Brittish Sand;
And so much Earth as was
By English Pilots when they heav'd the Lead;
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Haec est quae toties Inimicos Umbra fugavit,
At sub qua Cives Otia lenta terunt
In eandem Reginae Sueciae
Bellipotens Virgo, septem Regina Trionum
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