Orval, or The Fool of Time And Other Imitations and Paraphrases. By Robert Lytton |
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“Ma douce jouvence.”
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Orval, or The Fool of Time | ||
“Ma douce jouvence.”
My sweet youth now is all done:
The strength and the beauty are gone:
The tooth now is black: and the head now is white:
And the nerves now are loos'd: in the veins
Only water (not blood now) remains
Where the pulse beat of old with delight.
The strength and the beauty are gone:
The tooth now is black: and the head now is white:
And the nerves now are loos'd: in the veins
Only water (not blood now) remains
Where the pulse beat of old with delight.
Adieu! O my lyre! O adieu
You sweet women, my lost loves! and you,
Each dead passion! The end creepeth nigher.
Not one pastime of youth has kept pace
With my age: nought is left in their place
But the bed, and the cup, and the fire.
You sweet women, my lost loves! and you,
Each dead passion! The end creepeth nigher.
Not one pastime of youth has kept pace
With my age: nought is left in their place
But the bed, and the cup, and the fire.
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My head is confused with low fears,
And sickness, and too many years,
Some care in each corner I meet.
And wherever I linger, or go,
I turn back, and look after, to know
If Death be still dogging my feet:
And sickness, and too many years,
Some care in each corner I meet.
And wherever I linger, or go,
I turn back, and look after, to know
If Death be still dogging my feet:
Dogging me down the dark stair
That windeth, I cannot tell where,
To some Pluto, that opens for ever
His cave to all comers: alas,
How easily down it all pass,
And return from it—never, ah never!
That windeth, I cannot tell where,
To some Pluto, that opens for ever
His cave to all comers: alas,
How easily down it all pass,
And return from it—never, ah never!
Orval, or The Fool of Time | ||