The Modern Book of French Verse in English TranslationsAlbert Boni Boni and Liveright, 1920 - 299 стор. |
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A. C. Swinburne Algernon Charles Swinburne Andrew Andrew Lang arms Arthur O'Shaughnessy Arthur Symons barracks beauty beneath bird blue breast breath bright brow CHARLES-AUGUSTIN SAINTE-BEUVE charm dark dawn dead dear death deep doth dream drink earth Ernest Dowson eyes F. P. Sturm fain fair feet Fêtes Galantes flesh flowers Francis Jammes gold grace green grief hair hand hast hath hear heart heaven hour James Elroy Flecker Jethro Bithell John Payne jolly little king kiss lady languor last take pity light lips live lonely Love's lovers mistress of mistresses moon murmur night nought o'er pain pale roses Satan shade shadow shines sighs silence sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul spring stars sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou tree tremble veil voice W. J. Robertson wandering weary weep wind wine wings
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Сторінка 199 - MANDOLINE The singers of serenades Whisper their faded vows Unto fair listening maids Under the singing boughs. Tircis, Aminte, are there, Clitandre has waited long, And Damis for many a fair Tyrant makes many a song. Their short vests, silken and bright, Their long pale silken trains, Their elegance of delight, Twine soft blue silken chains. And the mandolines and they, Faintlier breathing, swoon Into the rose and grey Ecstasy of the moon.
Сторінка 61 - MEN, brother men, that after us yet live. Let not your hearts too hard against us be; For if some pity of us poor men ye give, The sooner God shall take of you pity. Here are we five or six strung up, you see, And here the flesh that all too well we fed Bit by bit eaten and rotten, rent and shred, And we the bones grow dust and ash withal; Let no man laugh at us discomforted, But pray to God that he forgive us all.
Сторінка 19 - We'll to the woods and gather may Fresh from the footprints of the rain; We'll to the woods, at every vein To drink the spirit of the day. 'The winds of spring are out at play, The needs of spring in heart and brain. We'll to the woods and gather mayFresh from the footprints of the rain.
Сторінка 6 - HATH any loved you well, down there, Summer or winter through? Down there, have you found any fair Laid in the grave with you? Is death's long kiss a richer kiss Than mine was wont to be — Or have you gone to some far bliss And quite forgotten me?
Сторінка 59 - WHO is this I hear? — Lo, this is I, thine heart, That holds on merely now by a slender string. Strength fails me, shape and sense are rent apart, The blood in me is turned to a bitter thing, Seeing thee skulk here like a dog shivering. — Yea, and for what? — For that thy sense found sweet.
Сторінка 50 - Though I gat bruises green and black, I loved him never the less a jot; Though he bound burdens on my back, If he said "Kiss me and heed it not...
Сторінка 49 - I behold A painted Heaven where harps and lutes adore, And eke an Hell whose damned folk seethe full sore: One bringeth fear, the other joy to me. That joy, great Goddess, make thou mine to be, — Thou of whom all must ask it even as I; And that which faith desires, that let it see. For in this faith I choose to live and die. O excellent Virgin Princess ! thou didst bear King Jesus, the most excellent comforter, Who even of this our weakness craved a share And for our sake stooped to us from on...
Сторінка 49 - Whose bitter sins were set aside even thus Though to the Fiend his bounden service was. Oh help me, lest in vain for me should pass (Sweet Virgin that shalt have no loss thereby !) The blessed Host and sacring of the Mass. Even in this faith I choose to live and die.
Сторінка 172 - But, like an old and faithful lecher, fain To drink delight of that enormous trull Whose hellish beauty makes me young again. Whether thou sleep, with heavy vapors full, Sodden with day, or, new appareled, stand In gold-laced veils of evening beautiful, I love thee, infamous city!
Сторінка 98 - O Liberty, can man resign thee, Once having felt thy generous flame? Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee, Or whips thy noble spirit tame? Too long the world has wept, bewailing, That Falsehood's dagger tyrants wield; But Freedom is our sword and shield, And all their arts are unavailing.