love poetry

" The Sea! The Sea! " loud shout ten thousand men,
Dark Persia's weary sands they heed no more,
But down the steep to where the surges roar,
In weeping crowds they rush past Xenophon.
Love's sharp cry thrilled them to the ocean, when
The waves — that oft perchance had lapped before
In caves soft murmuring on the Attic shore
— Sobbed in the hearts of Attic exiles then.

So with Life's serried ranks I struggle through
The sterile wilderness of things that be
Till clear in front lies Death's unfathomed blue,

A friend of mine, a friend of old,
Sends unto me apples of gold.
Fair is love!

Even unto me now this my friend
Apples, apples of gold doth send.
Fair is love!

Apples of gold he sends amain,
The best of them was split in twain.
Fair is love!

FROM APOLLONIUS RHODIUS, B.III.V.743 .

╬ؤà ╬╝╬Á╬¢ ╬Á¤Ç╬Á╬╣¤ä ╬Á¤Ç╬╣ ╬│╬▒╬╣╬▒¤à ╬▒╬│╬Á¤à ¤ç¤à╬Á¤å╬▒╬Â, &c

Now rising shades a solemn gloom display
O'er the wide earth, and o'er th' ethereal way;
All night the sailor marks the Northern Team,
And golden circlet of Orion's beam;
A deep repose the weary wand'rer shares,
And the faint watchman sleeps away his cares;
E'en the fond mother, while all breathless lies
Her child of love, in slumber seals her eyes:

Grey dawn — and lucent star that slowly paled
Amid the breaking splendour of the years,
When boyhood's heart looked up to Heaven, through tears
Of joy, to see the glory of God unveiled:
High noon — and bridal earth, whose footsteps failed
For very love, when passionate hopes and fears
Dazzled the flowers, made music in the ears,
And through the tranced wood their rapture trailed.

Calm eventide — afar the lonely west
Dreams of the wondrous day, and dreaming, lies
With folded hands, still lips, and weary eyes

AN ODE .

Love is a noble, rich repast,
But seldom should the lover taste;
When the kind fair no more restrains,
The glutton surfeits and disdains.

To move the nymph he tears bestows;
He vainly sighs, he falsely vows:
The tears deceive, the vows betray;
He conquers, and contemns the prey.

Thus Ammon's son with fierce delight
Smil'd at the terrors of the fight;
The thoughts of conquest charm'd his eyes;
He conquer'd, and he wept the prize.

( " Madame, autour de vous. " )

Lady, such spirit of sense is yours to entrance
Men's souls; your song's so sweet, and, when you dance,
Hearts so for bliss beat higher;
So lovely is the light no summer skies
Contain, the dew of pity in your deep eyes,
Of love the sunnier fire, —

That when you deign, young Star than heaven's more bright,
To lighten with one glorious smile the night
Whose shadow round us clingeth,

Clorinda, why this coy restraint,
This force upon your nature?
That love is strong, and reason faint,
Appears in every feature.
No longer then hoard up your charms,
As misers do their gold!
But fly into your lover's arms,
Nor fear reproach till old.
If virtue is a friend to love,
As ancient sages taught,
We then by force of reason prove,
To love is not a fault.

Sweet birds that inhabit my trees,
Melodious heralds of morn;
No more can your harmony please,
Since Phillida's left me forlorn.

You saw yester eve in the grove,
Sweet blushes vermillion'd her cheek;
You heard her approve of my love,
And vow she'd mine in a week.

Ye minstrels, she's false as the wind,
She's fled to a far richer swain.
Yet tho' she has prov'd so unkind,
Love bids me in silence complain;
While Hope, with a tender concern,
Says, Phillida yet may return.

I

Gloom!
An October like November;
August a hundred thousand hours,
And all September;
A hundred thousand dragging sunlit days,
And half October like a thousand years ...
And doom!
That then was Antwerp ...
In the name of God,
How could they do it?
Those souls that usually dived
Into the dirty caverns of mines;
Who usually hived
In whitened hovels; under ragged poplars;
Who dragged muddy shovels over the grassy mud,

Collin , for Love expiring, crys,
To see the Nymph , before he dies .
She went in Pity , 'tis confess'd,
She went; but deck'd in all her Best .