Thomas Carew

A SongIF the quick spirits in your eye
Now languish and anon must die;
If every sweet and every grace
Must fly from that forsaken face;…

Fond man, that canst believe her blood
Will from those purple channels flow;
Or that the pure untainted flood
Can any foul distemper know;…

In Nature's pieces still I see
Some error that might mended be;
Something my wish could still remove,
Alter or add; but my fair love…

IN Celia's face a question did arise,
Which were more beautiful, her lips or eyes ? “ We,” said the eyes, “send forth those pointed darts Which pierce the hardest adamantine hearts.” “ From us,” repli'd the lips, “proceed those blisses Which…

Зима прошла, и поле потеряло
Серебряное в искрах покрывало;
Мороз и вьюга более не льют
Глазурных сливок на застывший пруд;…

NK not, 'cause men flattering
You're fresh as April, sweet as May,
Bright as is the morning star,
That you are so ; or, though you are,

I'LL gaze no more on her bewitching face,
Since ruin harbours there in every place ;
For my enchanted soul alike she drowns With calms and tempests of her smiles and frowns.
I’ll love no more those cruel eyes of hers

'Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand
Hath fix'd upon the sotted age a brand
To their swoll'n pride and empty scribbling due;
It can nor judge, nor write, and yet 'tis true

Дай всласть любви мне иль презренья всласть!
Зной тропиков или полнощный лед
Равно мою бы исцелили страсть,
Но смесь их облегченья не дает.…

THAT flatt'ring glass, whose smooth face wears
Your shadow, which a sun appears,
Was once a river of my tears.About your cold heart they did make
A circle, where the briny lake…

'Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand
Hath fix'd upon the sotted age a brand
To their swoll'n pride and empty scribbling due;
It can nor judge, nor write, and yet 'tis true…

Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost
Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost
Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream
Upon the silver lake or crystal stream;

And here the precious dust is laid;
Whose purely-tempe r'd clay was made So fine that it the guest betray'd.
Else the soul grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shell of sin

The Lady Mary Villiers
Under this stone; with weeping
The parents that first gave her breath,
And their sad friends, laid her in earth.

SO grieves th' adventurous merchant, when he throws All the long toil'd-for treasure his ship stows Into the angry main, to save from wrack Himself and men, as I grieve to give back These letters : yet so powerful is your sway
As if you bid…

ZE not on thy beauty's pride,
Tender maid, in the false tide That from lovers' eyes doth slide.
Let thy faithful crystal show How thy colours come and go :
Beauty takes a foil from woe.

Give me more love or more disdain;
The torrid, or the frozen zone,
Bring equal ease unto my pain;
The temperate affords me none;

I WILL enjoy thee now, my Celia, come,
And fly with me to Love's Elysium.
The giant, Honour, that keeps cowards out,
Is but a masquer, and the servile rout…

AR not, dear love, that I'll reveal Those hours of pleasure we two steal ;
No eye shall see, nor yet the sun Descry, what thou and I have done.
No ear shall hear our love, but we Silent as the night will be ;
The god of love…

Под солнцем ярким день-деньской
Летала мушка над листвой,
Но вот, заметив Сельи взор,
Она узрела в нем костер.…

When thou, poor excommunicat e
From all the joys of love, shalt see
The full reward and glorious fate
Which my strong faith shall purchase me

If the quick spirits in your eye Now languish and anon must die; If every sweet and every grace Must fly from that forsaken face;
Then,
Celia, let us reap our joys
Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys.

I do not love thee for that fair
Rich fan of thy most curious hair;
Though the wires thereof be drawn
Finer than threads of lawn,…

He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;