The Works of Mr. A. Cowley: In Prose and Verse, Volume 2

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John Sharpe, 1809 - English poetry

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Page 261 - His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great admiral, were but a wand, He walked with.
Page 54 - The merrier fool o" th' two, yet quite as mad : Sire of Repentance ! child of fond Desire ! That blow'st the chemics', and the lovers', fire, Leading them still insensibly on By the strange witchcraft of " Anon !" By thee the one does changing Nature, through Her endless labyrinths, pursue ; And th' other chases Woman, whilst she goes More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows.
Page 151 - Ourselves then to survive ? Wise, subtle arts, and such as well befit That Nothing, Man's no wit ! — Some with vast costly tombs would purchase it, And by the proofs of death pretend to live. " Here lies the great" — false marble ! where ? Nothing but small and sordid dust lies there.
Page 194 - Nothing is there To come, and nothing Past, But an Eternal Now does always last.
Page 14 - I'll by that change so thrive, That Love in all my parts shall live. So powerful is this change, it render can, My outside Woman, and your inside Man, Clad all in White.
Page 193 - Above the subtle foldings of the Sky, Above the well-set Orbs' soft harmony, Above those petty lamps that gild the night ; There is a place o'erflown with...
Page 157 - With maravedies make the account, That single time might to a sum amount,. We grow at last by custom to believe That really we live ; Whilst all these shadows that for things we take, Are but the empty dreams which in Death's sleep we make. But these fantastic errors of our dream Lead us to solid wrong ; We pray God our friends...
Page 243 - Wash'd from the morning beauties' deepest red; An harmless flaming meteor shone for hair, And fell adown his shoulders with loose care; He cuts out a silk mantle from the skies, Where the most sprightly azure...
Page 184 - No dawning morn does her kind reds display; One slight weak beam would here be thought the day. No gentle stars with their fair gems of light Offend the tyrannous and unquestioned night. Here Lucifer, the mighty captive, reigns, Proud midst his woes and tyrant in his chains.
Page 13 - LOve in her Sunny Eyes does basking play ; Love walks the pleasant Mazes of her Hair ; Love does on both her Lips for ever stray ; And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there.

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