Poems by Christopher Marlowe
- 1
- 2
Fragment
... Though all were green, yet difference such in green, ...
Hero and Leander
... (excerpt) On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood, ...
from Hero and Leander: "It lies not in our power to love or hate"
... When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, ...
Elegies, Book One, 5
... after Ovid In summers heat and mid-time of the day ...
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
... That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, ...
Dialogue In Verse
... _Gentleman._ I thought she had jested and meant but a fable, ...
Hero And Leander: The Second Sestiad
... He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played ...
Who Ever Loved That Loved Not At First Sight?
... When two are stript long ere the course begin, ...
Lament For Zenocrate
... Shine downwards now no more, but deck the heavens ...
The Face That Launch'd A Thousand Ships
... Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies! ...
In Obitum Honoratissimi Viri, Rogeri Manwood, Militis, Quaestorii Reginalis Capitalis Bareonis
... Occidit: heu, secum effoetas Acherontis ad oras ...
Hero And Leander: The First Sestiad
... and at last, As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid ...
From Doctor Faustus ("Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?")
... ly than the monarch of the skyIn wanton Arethusa's azure arms,And none but thou shalt be my paramour ...
From Tamburlaine the Great, Part One ("Nature that framed us of four elements")
... Nature that framed us of four elements,Warring within our breast for regiment,Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds:Our souls, whose faculties can comprehendThe wondrous architecture of the worldAnd measure every wandering planet's course,Still climbing after knowledge infiniteAnd always moving as the restless spheres,Wills us to wear ourselves and never restUntil we reach the ripest fruit of all,That perfect bliss and sole felicity,The sweet fruition of an earthly crown. ...
From Tamburlaine the Great, Part One ("What is Beauty? saith my sufferings, then")
... What is Beauty? saith my sufferings then,If all the pens that poets ever heldHad fed the feeling of their master's thoughts,And every sweetness that inspired their hearts,Their minds, and muses on admired themes,If all the heavenly quintessence they stillFrom their immortal flowers of Poesy,Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceiveThe highest reaches of a human wit,If these had made one poem's periodAnd all combined in Beauty's worthiness,Yet should there hover in their restless headsOne thought, one grace, one wonder at the least,Which into words no virtue can digest. ...
- 1
- 2
