I, who have favour'd many, come to be Grac'd now, at last, or glorified by thee, Lo! I, the lyric prophet, who have set On many a head the delphic coronet, Come unto thee for laurel, having spent...
When I through all my many poems look, And see yourself to beautify my book, Methinks that only lustre doth appear A light fulfilling all the region here. Gild still with flames this firmament, and be...
My dear Sir, - When men have nightmares, they dream about you. I myself have been chased over the tops of pinnacles By flaming-eyed Panhards and Durkopps In my sleep. Nor is this all,...
My dear Muddied Oaf, - While still a youth and all unknown to fame, I went to school. And on a certain Saturday I put on a beautiful blue jersey, and some striped knickers,...
Queen of my songs, harmonious maid, Ah why hast thou withdrawn thy aid? Ah why forsaken thus my breast With inauspicious damps oppress'd? Where is the dread prophetic heat,...
O muse that swayest the sad Northern Song, Thy right hand full of smiting & of wrong, Thy left hand holding pity; & thy breast Heaving with hope of that so certain rest:...
When with gigantic hand he placed, For throne, on vassal Europe based, That column's lofty height - Pillar, in whose dread majesty, In double immortality,...
Rich Statue, double-faced, With Marble Temples graced, To rayse thy God-head hyer, In flames where Altars shining, Before thy Priests diuining, Doe od'rous Fumes expire. ...
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours Of winters past or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights which present are, (Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers)...
How passing sad! Listen, it sings again! Art thou a spirit, that amongst the boughs, The livelong day dost chaunt that wond'rous strain Making wan Dian stoop her silver brows...
When I departed am, ring thou my knell, Thou pitiful and pretty Philomel: And when I'm laid out for a corse, then be Thou sexton, redbreast, for to cover me.
Month after month the gathered rains descend Drenching yon secret Aethiopian dells, And from the desert's ice-girt pinnacles Where Frost and Heat in strange embraces blend...
Madame, to shew the smoothnesse of my vaine, Neither that I would haue you entertaine The time in reading me, which you would spend In faire discourse with some knowne honest friend,...
So proud your port, your arm so powerful, With such a grip you grip the goddess' hair, That one might take you, from your casual air, For a young ruffian flinging down his trull. ...
I see you, refulgent ones, Burning so steadily Like big white arc lights... There are so many of you. I like to watch you weaving - Altogether and with precision Each his ray -...