The Temple Shakespeare, 第 31 巻J.M. Dent and Company, 1904 |
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allusion Astrophel and Stella bear beauteous beauty's bright brow C.-CXXVI Capell conj cxii cxxi CXXIV CXXVI dear death decay dost thou doth earth Edition Envoy exegi face false faults fear flowers Francis Meres G. F. Watts gainst gentle give grace grow H OW happy hate hath heaven Herbertists limbecks live look love thee Love's Love's Labour's Lost lovest lxxxvii Mary Fitton mind mistress Muse night odd bands Passionate Pilgrim Peace of Vervins pity poems poet poet's praise proud prove referred rhyme Shakespeare Shakespeare's Sonnets shame sight sing Sonnets 99 soul Southampton spirit steal summer's tell thence thine eyes things thou art thou dost thou hast thou mayst thou wilt thoughts thy beauty thy heart thy love thy sweet thy worth thyself Time's tongue true truth Venus and Adonis verse Whilst youth ΙΟ
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lxiii ページ - SINCE brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
ciii ページ - Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
i ページ - From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory : But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content And, tender churl, mak'st...
xcvii ページ - The forward violet thus did I chide : Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
cxxvi ページ - Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound: I grant I never saw a goddess go...
li ページ - What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you ; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new: Speak of the spring and...
lxxix ページ - Or I shall live your epitaph to make, Or you survive when I in earth am rotten ; From hence your memory death cannot take, Although in me each part will be forgotten. Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die : The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.
xxix ページ - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride, With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all-triumphant splendour on my brow ; But out, alack ! he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth XXXIV.
xcv ページ - HOW like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December's bareness every where! And yet this time removed was summer's time; The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widow'd wombs after their lords...
cii ページ - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring...