The Golden Treasury. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,

       Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain

       Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.

      Were I as high as heaven above the plain,

       And you, my Love, as humble and as low

       As are the deepest bottoms of the main,

       Whereso'er you were, with you my love should go.

      Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,

       My love should shine on you like to the sun,

       And look upon you with ten thousand eyes

       Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done.

      Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you,

       Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.

      J. Sylvester

XXXV

      CARPE DIEM

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      O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?

       O stay and hear! your true-love's coming

       That can sing both high and low;

       Trip no further, pretty sweeting,

       Journeys end in lovers meeting—

       Every wise man's son doth know.

      What is love? 'tis not hereafter;

       Present mirth hath present laughter;

       What's to come is still unsure:

       In delay there lies no plenty,—

       Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,

       Youth's a stuff will not endure.

      W. Shakespeare

XXXVI

      AN HONEST AUTOLYCUS

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      Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave, and new,

       Good penny-worths,—but money cannot move:

       I keep a fair but for the Fair to view;

       A beggar may be liberal of love.

       Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true—

       The heart is true.

      Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again;

       My trifles come as treasures from my mind;

       It is a precious jewel to be plain;

       Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find:—

       Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!

       Of me a grain!

      Anon.

XXXVII

      WINTER

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      When icicles hang by the wall

       And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

       And Tom bears logs into the hall,

       And milk comes frozen home in pail;

       When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,

       Then nightly sings the staring owl

       Tu-whit!

       Tu-who! A merry note!

       While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

      When all about the wind doth blow,

       And coughing drowns the parson's saw,

       And birds sit brooding in the snow,

       And Marian's nose looks red and raw;

       When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl—

       Then nightly sings the staring owl

       Tu-whit!

       Tu-who! A merry note!

       While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

      W. Shakespeare

XXXVIII

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      That time of year thou may'st in me behold

       When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

       Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

       Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang:

      In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

       As after sunset fadeth in the west,

       Which by and by black night doth take away,

       Death's second self, that seals up all in rest:

      In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,

       That on the ashes of his youth doth lie

       As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

       Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by:

      

      —This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

       To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

      W. Shakespeare

XXXIX

      MEMORY

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      When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

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