Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

ON MAY MORNING

JOHN MILTON

[OW the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Now

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

SONGS

From COMUS

JOHN MILTON

A lady, lost in a wood, has fallen in with an enchanter, Comus, who, by a spell, has fixed her in a chair from which she cannot stir. Her two brothers have come and put the enchanter to flight, but the spell still holds her. A friendly spirit appeals in her behalf to the water nymph Sabrina.

SPIRIT'S SONG TO SABRINA

ABRINA fair,

Listen where thou art sitting

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honour's sake,

Goddess of the silver lake,

Listen and save.

Listen, and appear to us,

In name of great Oceanus;

By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams wiih wily glance,
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
From thy coral-paven bed,

And bridle in thy headlong wave,

Till thou our summons answered have;
Listen and save.

(Sabrina rises, attended by water nymphs, and sings.)

By the rushy-fringed bank,

Where grows the willow and the osier dank,
My sliding chariot stays,

Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen
Of turkis blue, and emerald green,
That in the channel strays;
Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feet
O'er the cowslip's velvet head,
That bends not as I tread;
Gentle swain, at thy request
I am here.

Spirit,

Goddess dear,

We implore thy powerful hand

To undo the charmed band

Of true virgin here distressed,

Through the force, and through the wile,
Of unblest enchanter vile.

Sabrina,

Shepherd, 'tis my office best
To help ensnared chastity:
Brightest lady, look on me;

Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops, that from my fountain pure
I have kept, of precious cure;
Thrice upon thy finger's tip,

Thrice upon thy rubied lip;
Next this marble venomed seat,

Smeared with gums of glutinous heat,

I touch with chaste palms moist and cold;
Now the spell hath lost his hold;

And I must haste, ere morning hour,

To wait in Amphitrite's bower.

(Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.)

WHAT WONDROUS LIFE IS THIS I LEAD?

From THOUGHTS IN A GARDEN

ANDREW MARVELL

HAT wondrous life is this I lead?

WH

Ripe apples drop about my head;
The luscious clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;
The nectarine and curious peach
Into my hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.

Here at the fountain's sliding foot
Or at some fruit tree's mossy root,
Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide;
There, like a bird, it sits and sings,
Then whets and claps its silver wings,
And, till prepared for longer flight,
Waves in its plumes the various light.

« AnteriorContinuar »