Samuel Daniel

Thou canst not die whilst any zeal abound In feeling hearts that can conceive these lines;
Though thou a Laura hast no Petrarch found,
In base attire, yet clearly Beauty shines.
And I, though born in a colder clime

My Cynthia hath the waters of mine eyes The ready handmaids on her grace attending That never fall to ebb, nor ever dries,
For to their flow she never grants an ending.
Th'Ocean never did attend more duly Upon his Sovereign's course,…

Хлопот с Любовью полон рот,
Но часто – без удачи.
Она всё тот же огород,
Но часто – без отдачи.…

O then I love and draw this weary breath,
For her the cruel Fair, within whose brow I written find the sentence of my death In unkind letters, wrought she cares not how.
O thou that rul'st the confines of the night,
Laughter-loving…

What it is to breathe and live without life;
How to be pale with anguish, red with fear;
T'have peace abroad, and nought within but strife;
Wish to be present, and yet shun t'appear;

As to the Roman that would free his land,
His error was his honor and renown And more the fame of his mistaking hand Than if he had the tyrant overthrown,
So,
Delia, hath mine error made me known,

Go, wailing verse, the infants of my love,
Minerva-like, brought forth without a Mother:
Present the image of the cares I prove;
Witness your Father's grief exceeds all other.

Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair;
Her brow shades frowns, although her eyes are sunny;
Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair;
And her disdains are gall, her favors honey.…

Happy in sleep, waking content to languish,
Embracing clouds by night; in daytime, mourn;
All things I loath save her and mine own anguish,
Pleas'd in my hurt inured to live forlorn.

If that a loyal heart and faith unfeign'd,
If a sweet languish with a chaste desire,
If hunger-starven thought so long retain'd,
Fed but with smoke, and cherished but with fire,

Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew Whose short refresh upon the tender green Cheers for a time but till the Sun doth show,
And straight 'tis gone as it had never been.
Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest…

Пусть мусульман и рыцарей сраженья
Прадедовским стихом иной пиит
Опишет нам, – его воображенье
Не кровь, не плоть, но призраков родит.Я о тебе поведаю, – и ясен…

At the Author's Going into ItalyO whether (poor forsaken) wilt thou go,
To go from sorrow and thine own distress,
When every place presents the face of woe,
And no remove can make thy sorrow less?

But love whilst that thou mayst be loved again,
Now whilst thy May hath filled thy lap with flowers,
Now whilst thy beauty bears without a stain,
Now use the summer smiles, ere winter lowers.…

How long shall I in mine affliction mourn,
A burden to myself, distress'd in mind?
When shall my interdicted hopes return From out despair wherein they live confin'd?
When shall her troubled brow charg'd with disdain Reveal the…

LV
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born:
Relieve my languish, and restore the light

Time, cruel Time, come and subdue that brow Which conquers all but thee, and thee, too, stays As if she were exempt from scythe or bow,
From love or years unsubject to decays.
Or art thou grown in league with those fair eyes That they…

Whilst by her eyes pursu'd, my poor heart flew it,
Into the sacred bosom of my dearest;
She there in that sweet sanctuary slew it,
Where it presum'd its safety to be nearest.

Drawn by th'attractive virtue of her eyes,
My touch'd heart turns it to that happy coast;
My joyful North, where all my fortune lies,
The level of my hopes desired most.

Unto the boundless Ocean of thy beauty Runs this poor river, charg'd with streams of zeal:
Returning thee the tribute of my duty,
Which here my love, my youth, my plaints reveal.
Here I unclasp the book of my charg'd soul

I must not grieve my Love, whose eyes would read Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile;
Flowers have a time before they come to seed,
And she is young and now must sport the while.
Ah, sport, sweet Maid, in season of…

My spotless love hovers with white wings About the temple of the proudest frame,
Where blaze those lights fairest of earthly things Which clear our clouded world with brightest flame.
M'ambitious thoughts confined in her face Affect no…

XI ( version)
Look,
Delia, how we 'steem the half-blown rose,
The image of thy blush and summer's honour

When men shall find thy flower, thy glory pass,
And thou with carefull brow sitting alone,
Received hast this message from thy glass,
That tells thee truth, and says that all is gone,