« ForrigeFortsæt »
DORON'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS FAIR
IKE to Diana in her summer weed,
Goes fair Samela.
Is fair Samela.
Is fair Samela.
Shines fair Samela.
Of fair Samela.
Thus fair Samela
Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,
For she's Samela.
Yield to Samela.
H! were she pitisul as she is fair,
Or but as mild as she is seeming so, Then were my hopes greater than my despair,
Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe. Ah ! were her heart relenting as her hand,
That seems to melt even with the mildest touch, Then knew I where to seat me in a land,
Under wide heavens, but yet there is not such. So as she shows, she seems the budding rose,
Vet sweeter far than is an earthly flower, Sovereign of beauty, like the spray she grows; Compassed she is with thorns and cankered bower,
she willing to be plucked and worn, She would be gathered, though she grew on thorn.
Ah ! when she sings, all music else be still,
For none must be compared to her note; Ne'er breathed such glee from Philomela's bill,
Nor from the morning-singer's swelling throat. Ah ! when she riseth from her blissful bed,
She comforts all the world as doth the sun, And at her sight the night's foul vapour's fled ;
When she is set, the gladsome day is done.
Did in the air
To view what fire was near,
Such floods of tears did shed,
quoth he,' but newly born,
to warm their hearts my fire, but I ;
My faultless breast the furnace is,
The fuel, wounding thorns;
The ashes, shames and scorns;
The fuel justice layeth on,
And mercy blows the coals,
Are men's defiled souls :
To work them to their good,
To wash them in my blood !
And swiftly shrunk away,
mind That it was Christmas Day.