Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy: Till the dilating Soul, enwrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing-there As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven! Coleridge. The Parents' Warning. THREE children sliding on the ice All on a summer's day, As it fell out, they all fell in, The rest they ran away. Now had these children been at school, Ten thousand pounds to one penny You parents that have children dear, If you will have them safe abroad, Pray keep them safe at home. Gammer Gurton. Consentire dies et prospera fata duorum: Donec se expandens Animus, perque omnia fusus, H. D. Parentes Admoniti. ΚΡΥΣΤΑΛΛΟΠΑΚΤΟΥΣ τρίπτυχοι κόροι ροὰς R. P. The Pledge. DRINK to me only with thine eyes, The thirst, that from the soul doth spring, But might I from Jove's nectar sip, I'd change it not for thine. Ben Jonson. Pillycock. OLD Pillycock sat on a grassy hill, Gammer Gurton The Marks of Lobe. COME here, fond youth, whoe'er thou be, I'll teach thee what it is to love, And by what marks true passion may be found. It is to be all bathed in tears, To live upon a smile for years, To lie whole ages at a beauty's feet, To kneel, to languish, to implore, And still, though she disdain, adore. It is to do all this, and think thy sufferings sweet. Propínatio. LUMINIBUS solis mihi, Lydia cara, propines; Scilicet, ex anima quæ fervida nascitur ima, Pillicoccius. LACERPICIFERO jugo sedebat, G. K. H. D Indicia Amorís. FERRE parem nostris qui te, puer, ignibus ignem Infelix tua vota refer: referam ipse vicissim, Est, pasci in totos risum, si riserit, annos: Si fugit illa, sequi: sic cupere usque sequi. It is to gaze upon her eyes With eager joy and fond surprize, Yet temper'd with such chaste and awful fear, As wretches feel who wait their doom; Nor must one ruder thought presume, Though but in whispers breathed, to meet her ear. It is to hope, though hope were lost, Though heaven and earth thy wishes cross'd: Though she were bright as sainted queens above, And thou the least and meanest swain That folds his flock upon the plain, Yet if thou darest not hope, thou dost not love. It is to quench thy joy in tears, To nurse strange thoughts and groundless fears: If pangs of jealousy thou hast not proved, Though she were fonder and more true O never dream again that thou hast loved. If, when the darling maid is gone, Feeding thy fancy on her charms, Thou dost not love: for love is nourish'd so. |