Love Poems from the Portuguese of Luis de Camoens

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1886 - 116 pages
 

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Page 28 - THOU hast an eye of tender blue, And thou hast locks of Daphne's hue, And cheeks that shame the morning's break, And lips that might for redness make Roses seem pale beside them ; But whether soft or sweet as they, Lady ! alas, I cannot say, For I have never tried them. Yet thus created for delight, Lady ! thou art not lovely quite, For dost thou not this maxim know ; That Prudery is Beauty's foe, A stain that mars a jewel ! And...
Page 53 - SINCE in this dreary vale of tears No certainty but death appears, Why should we waste our vernal years In hoarding useless treasure ? No, — let the young and ardent mind Become the friend of human kind, And in the generous service find A source of purer pleasure ! Better to live...
Page 46 - Si vous croyez que je vais dire Qui j'ose aimer, Je ne saurais pour un empire Vous la nommer. Nous allons chanter à la ronde, Si vous voulez, Que je l'adore, et qu'elle est blonde Comme les blés. Je fais ce que sa fantaisie Veut m'ordonner, Et je puis, s'il lui faut ma vie, La lui donner. Du mal qu'une amour ignorée Nous fait souffrir, J'en porte l'âme déchirée Jusqu'à mourir.
Page 14 - I WHISPER'D her my last adieu, I gave a mournful kiss ; Cold show'rs of sorrow bath'd her eyes, And her poor heart was torn with sighs ; Yet — strange to tell — 'twas then I knew Most perfect bliss. — For Love, at other times suppress'd, Was all betray'd at this — I saw him weeping in her eyes, I heard him breathe amongst her sighs, And ev'ry sob which shook her breast Thrill'd mine with bliss.
Page 77 - Tears all my pleasure — all my comfort care ! But I have known, from long experience known, How vain the worship to those idols shown, Which charm the world, and reign unrivall'd there: Proud dreams of pow"r, and...
Page 58 - Tis not, that cradled in thine eyes The baby Love for ever lies On couches dipp'd in dew ; Tis not because those eyes have won Their temper'd light from April's sun, From...
Page 22 - God knows how fervently ! Such are my hours of dear delight, And morn but makes me long for night, And think how swift the minutes flew, When last amongst the dropping dew, I wander'd silently.
Page 59 - Mais en effect, ce petit ris follastre, C'est, à mon gré, ce qui luy sied le mieulx; Elle en pourroit les chemins et les lieux, Où elle passe, à plaisir inciter; Et si ennuy me venoit contrister Tant que par mort fust ma vie abatue, II ne fauldroit, pour me resusciter, Que ce ris là duquel elle me tue.
Page 32 - E'en then the griefs I now possess, As natal boons were given; And the fair form of Happiness, Which hover'd round, intent to bless, Scared by the phantoms of distress, Flew back to heaven ! For I was made in Joy's despite, And meant for Misery's slave ; And all my hours of brief delight Fled, like the speedy winds of night, Which soon shall wheel their sullen flight Across my grave!
Page 31 - O, WEEP not thus— we both shall know Ere long a happier doom ; There is a place of rest below, Where thou and I shall surely go, And sweetly sleep, released from woe

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