Erster Versuch über die englische Hirtendichtung

Verlag von Oscar Ehrhardt's Univ.-Buchhandlung, 1888 - 131 ページ


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118 ページ - Or moss-crown'd fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delights to know Which plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow : Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands, are found ; And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around. ' Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
73 ページ - Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, Then, hid in shades, eludes her eager swain ; But feigns a laugh, to see me search around, And by that laugh the willing fair is found.
91 ページ - What it is, to admire and to love, And to leave her we love and admire. Ah lead forth my flock in the morn, And the damps of each ev'ning repel ; Alas ! I am faint and forlorn : — I have bade my dear Phyllis farewel.
91 ページ - Tis his with mock passion to glow ! 'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, How her face is as bright as the snow, And her bosom, be sure, is as cold ; How the nightingales labour the strain, With the notes of this charmer to vie ; How they vary their accents in vain, Repine at her triumphs and die.
53 ページ - Whilome in youth, when flowrd my joyfull spring, Like Swallow swift I wandred here and there ; 20 Por heate of heedlesse lust me so did sting, That I of doubted daunger had no feare : I went the wastefull woodes and forest wide, Withouten dreade of Wolves to bene espyed.
80 ページ - They seiz'd the lass in apron clean array'd, And to the ale-house forc'd the willing maid ; In ale and kisses they forget their cares, And Susan Blouzelinda's loss repairs.
78 ページ - When first by thee my younglings white were shorn, Then first, I ween, I cast a lover's eye, My sheep were silly, but more silly I. Beneath the shears they felt no lasting smart, They lost but fleeces while I lost a heart.
79 ページ - I'll speed me to the pond, where the high stool On the long plank hangs o'er the muddy pool, That stool, the dread of every scolding quean.
77 ページ - Clean as young lambkins or the goose's down, And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown. The witless lamb may sport upon the plain, The frisking kid delight the gaping swain, The wanton calf may skip with many a bound, And my cur Tray play deftest feats around ; But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray, Dance like Buxoma on the first of May.
79 ページ - On the long plank hangs o'er the muddy pool; That stool, the dread of every scolding quean ; Yet, sure a lover should not die so mean ! There plac'd aloft, I'll rave and rail by fits, Though all the parish say I've lost my wits; 110 And thence, if courage holds, myself I'll throw, And quench my passion in the lake below.