Du Bartas His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester |
| 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 4. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 32. |
| 33. |
| 34. |
| 35. |
| 36. |
| 37. |
| 38. |
| 39. |
| 40. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 32. |
| 33. |
| 34. |
| 35. |
| 36. |
| 37. |
| 38. |
| 39. |
| 40. |
| 41. |
| 42. |
| 43. |
| 44. |
| 45. |
| 46. |
| 47. |
| 48. |
| 49. |
| 50. |
| Du Bartas | ||
“O bright-ey'd Virgin! O how fair thou art!
“O how I love thee, My Snowe-winged Dove!
“O how I love thee! Thou hast rapt my heart:
“For thee I Dy: For thee I Live, my Love.
“O how I love thee, My Snowe-winged Dove!
“O how I love thee! Thou hast rapt my heart:
“For thee I Dy: For thee I Live, my Love.
“How fair art thou, my Dear! How dear to mee!
“Dear Soule (awake) I faint, I sink, I swoun
“At thy dear Sight: and, when I sleep, for Thee
“Within my brest still wakes my sharp-sweet Wound.
“Dear Soule (awake) I faint, I sink, I swoun
“At thy dear Sight: and, when I sleep, for Thee
“Within my brest still wakes my sharp-sweet Wound.
“My Loue, what Odours thy sweet Tresse it yields!
“What Amber-greece, what Incense breath'st thou out
“From purple fillets! and what Myrrhe distils
“Still from thy Fingers, ringd with Gold about!
“What Amber-greece, what Incense breath'st thou out
464
“Still from thy Fingers, ringd with Gold about!
“Sweet-Heart, how sweet is th'Odour of thy Prayse!
“O what sweet airs doth thy sweet air deliver
“Vnto my burning Soule! What hony Layes
“Flowe from thy throat! thy throat a golden River.
“O what sweet airs doth thy sweet air deliver
“Vnto my burning Soule! What hony Layes
“Flowe from thy throat! thy throat a golden River.
“Among the Flowrs, my Flowr's a Rose, a Lilly:
“A Rose, a Lilly; this a Bud, that blow'n:
“This fragrant Flowr first of all gather will-I,
“Smell to it, kisse it, wear it as mine owne.
“A Rose, a Lilly; this a Bud, that blow'n:
“This fragrant Flowr first of all gather will-I,
“Smell to it, kisse it, wear it as mine owne.
“Among the Trees, my Love's an Apple-Tree,
“Thy fruitfull Stem bears Flowr and Fruit together:
“I'll smell thy Flowr, thy Fruit shall nourish mee,
“And in thy Shadow will I rest for ever.
“Thy fruitfull Stem bears Flowr and Fruit together:
“I'll smell thy Flowr, thy Fruit shall nourish mee,
“And in thy Shadow will I rest for ever.
| Du Bartas | ||