The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival With a biographical sketch |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
1. |
2. | [II. Think, O think, how much thou lov'dst me] |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||
359
[II. Think, O think, how much thou lov'dst me]
“Wspomni, wspomni, moy liubeznoy,
Moiu prez'niuju liubov—”
Moiu prez'niuju liubov—”
“Think, O think, beloved,
Of my early love!”
Of my early love!”
Think, O think, how much thou lov'dst me,
When my cheek was fresh and fair!
Do not coldly now forget me,
Though its bloom has gone!
When my cheek was fresh and fair!
Do not coldly now forget me,
Though its bloom has gone!
Think how oft we sat together!
Happy were our moments then.
Then my eye was bright with pleasure,—
Now 't is dimmed with tears.
Happy were our moments then.
Then my eye was bright with pleasure,—
Now 't is dimmed with tears.
Like a rose was then my beauty,
Rose that opens first in spring.
Then my charms could more allure thee,—
I could love not more.
Rose that opens first in spring.
Then my charms could more allure thee,—
I could love not more.
Leave, O, leave me not forsaken!
I will love thee ever true.
Pale my cheek, and sorrow-stricken,—
Love still lights my soul.
I will love thee ever true.
Pale my cheek, and sorrow-stricken,—
Love still lights my soul.
The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||