Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, The Rose. Go, lovely rose, TENNYSON. Tell her that wastes her time and That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, me, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die; that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair. WALLER. Apis aurea otiatur: sed ego unica vigilo; Oculi madent fluentes, cruciatqve amor animum; Animus labascit aeger: tenebrae super oculos; Taedetqve me tueri superi spatia poli. R. B. Rosa. I rosa, flos florum: qvom te conspexerit illa, Qvam suavis, qvam sit candida, qvamqve placens. Tuqve mone nympham, qvae primo in vere iuventae Ut clausura tibi, si te loca sola tulissent, Vilius est pretium fugientis lumina formae : Nec rubeat curae mile fuisse procis. Tum morere, ut qvidqvid rari est qvae fata seqvantur, Sentiat exemplo docta puella tuo; Qvam cita pernicies rapiat miracula formae, Qvam paucos habeant suavia qvaeqve dies. K. Lamentation. Swifter far than summer's flight, Art thou come and gone. As the earth when leaves are dead, As the heart when joy is fled, The swallow summer comes again; To fly with thee, false as thou. My heart each day desires the morrow, Vainly would my winter borrow Sunny leaves from any bough. Lilies for a bridal bed, Roses for a matron's head, Violets for a maiden dead, Pansies let my flowers be: On the living grave I bear Scatter them without a tear; Let no friend, however dear, Waste one hope, one fear for me. Auf das Alter. SHELLEY. Das Alter kränket mich; die jungen Jahr' ingleichen; Zwar jenes, weil es kommt, und diese, weil sie weichen. Lamentatio. Citior longe qvam volat aestas, Vanis celebret desideriis. K. Querulus. Tempora nec senii nec sunt mihi grata iuventae; Altera qvod veniunt, altera qvod fugiunt. K. The Power of Love. The winds are high on Helle's wave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. That tale is old; but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true. BYRON. Meine Antipathie. Herzlich ist mir das Laster zuwider, doppelt zuwider Ist mir's, weil es so viel schwaßen von Tugend gemacht. "Wie? du hassest die Tugend ?”—Ich wollte; wir übten sie alle. Und so spräche, will's Gott, ferner kein Mensch mehr davon. SCHILLER. |