All Poems
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The Broken Bell
© Toru Dutt
'Tis bitter-sweet on winter nights to note,Beside the palpitating fire reclined,The chimes, across the fogs, upon the wind
Ten Precepts from Dhammapada
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
Return Love for Hatred.1.2 Hatred lives and mortal strife;1.3Love return for bitter hatred,1.4 Hatred dies, and sweet is life! (5)
An Evening Contemplation in a College
© Duncombe John
The Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates,With jarring sound the porter turns the key,Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits,And slowly, sternly quits it -- tho' for me.
Vœu d'un vanneur de blé, aux vents
© Joachim du Bellay
A vous, troppe legere,Qui d'æle passagerePar le monde volez,Et d'un sifflant murmureL'ombrageuse verdureDoulcement esbranlez,
Hereux qui, comme Ulysse
© Joachim du Bellay
Heureux qui, comme Ulysse, a fait un beau voyage,Ou comme cestuy là qui conquit la toisonEt puis est retourné, plein d'usage et raison,Vivre entre ses parents le reste de son aage!
To my Honor'd Friend, Dr. Charleton
© John Dryden
The longest tyranny that ever sway'dWas that wherein our ancestors betray'dTheir free-born reason to the Stagirite,And made his torch their universal light
The Hind and the Panther: Part I
© John Dryden
A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchang'd,Fed on the lawns, and in the forest rang'd;Without unspotted, innocent within,She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin
Alexander's Feast
© John Dryden
I By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne; His valiant peers were plac'd around;Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound: (So should desert in arms be crown'd
Song: Phoebus Arise
© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)
Phœbus, arise,And paint the sable skiesWith azure, white, and red;Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bedThat she thy career may with roses spread;The nightingales thy coming each where sing;Make an eternal spring;Give life to this dark world which lieth dead
Madrigal: My Thoughts Hold Mortal Strife
© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)
My thoughts hold mortal strife,I do detest my life,And with lamenting cries,Peace to my soul to bring,Oft calls that prince which here doth monarchize;But he, grim-grinning king,Who caitiffs scorns and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come
For the Baptist
© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)
The last and greatest herald of heaven's king,Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,Which he than man more harmless found and mild;His food was locusts and what young doth spring,With honey that from virgin hives distill'd;Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thingMade him appear, long since from earth exil'd
Ode to the Virginian Voyage
© Michael Drayton
You brave heroic minds,Worthy your country's name,That honour still pursue,Go and subdue!Whilst loit'ring hindsLurk here at home with shame.
Ode to the Cambro-Britons and their Harp, His Ballad of Agincourt
© Michael Drayton
Fair stood the wind for France,When we our sails advance;Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry;But putting to the main,At Caux, the mouth of Seine,With all his martial train Landed King Harry.
Noah's Flood
© Michael Drayton
Eternal and all-working God, which wastBefore the world, whose frame by Thee was cast,And beautified with beamful lamps above,By thy great wisdom set how they should moveTo guide the seasons, equally to all,Which come and go as they do rise and fall
Idea: To the Reader of these Sonnets
© Michael Drayton
Into these loves, who but for passion looks,At this first sight here let him lay them byAnd seek elsewhere in turning other books,Which better may his labour satisfy
Idea XXXI
© Michael Drayton
Methinks I see some crooked mimic jeerAnd tax my muse with this fantastic grace,Turning my papers, asks "what have we here?"Making withall some filthy antic face
