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21 " What wondrous life in this I leadRipe apples drop about my head "
― Andrew Marvell
22 " Ye glow-worms, whose officious flameTo wand’ring mowers shows the way,That in the night have lost their aim,And after foolish fires do stray;Your courteous lights in vain you waste,Since Juliana here is come,For she my mind hath so displac’dThat I shall never find my home. "
23 " And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended soul is fixt, But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always crowds itself betwixt. "
― Andrew Marvell , The Complete Poems
24 " The same arts that did gainA power, must it maintain. "
25 " Могилы - не дурной приют, но там обняться не дают. "
― Andrew Marvell , To His Coy Mistress
26 " The Garden"How vainly men themselves amazeTo win the palm, the oak, or bays,And their uncessant labours seeCrown’d from some single herb or tree,Whose short and narrow verged shadeDoes prudently their toils upbraid;While all flow’rs and all trees do closeTo weave the garlands of repose.Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,And Innocence, thy sister dear!Mistaken long, I sought you thenIn busy companies of men;Your sacred plants, if here below,Only among the plants will grow.Society is all but rude,To this delicious solitude.No white nor red was ever seenSo am’rous as this lovely green.Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,Cut in these trees their mistress’ name;Little, alas, they know or heedHow far these beauties hers exceed!Fair trees! wheres’e’er your barks I wound,No name shall but your own be found.When we have run our passion’s heat,Love hither makes his best retreat.The gods, that mortal beauty chase,Still in a tree did end their race:Apollo hunted Daphne so,Only that she might laurel grow;And Pan did after Syrinx speed,Not as a nymph, but for a reed.What wond’rous life in this I lead!Ripe apples drop about my head;The luscious clusters of the vineUpon my mouth do crush their wine;The nectarine and curious peachInto my hands themselves do reach;Stumbling on melons as I pass,Ensnar’d with flow’rs, I fall on grass.Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,Withdraws into its happiness;The mind, that ocean where each kindDoes straight its own resemblance find,Yet it creates, transcending these,Far other worlds, and other seas;Annihilating all that’s madeTo a green thought in a green shade.Here at the fountain’s sliding foot,Or at some fruit tree’s mossy root,Casting the body’s vest aside,My soul into the boughs does glide;There like a bird it sits and sings,Then whets, and combs its silver wings;And, till prepar’d for longer flight,Waves in its plumes the various light.Such was that happy garden-state,While man there walk’d without a mate;After a place so pure and sweet,What other help could yet be meet!But ’twas beyond a mortal’s shareTo wander solitary there:Two paradises ’twere in oneTo live in paradise alone.How well the skillful gard’ner drewOf flow’rs and herbs this dial new,Where from above the milder sunDoes through a fragrant zodiac run;And as it works, th’ industrious beeComputes its time as well as we.How could such sweet and wholesome hoursBe reckon’d but with herbs and flow’rs! "
― Andrew Marvell , Miscellaneous poems by Andrew Marvell, Esq. ...
27 " Mă tulbură atât de tare, încât nu îmi voi mai găsi niciodată locul. "
28 " O, who shall from this dungeon raise A soul enslaved so many ways? With bolts of bones, that fettered stands In feet; and manacled in hands. Here blinded with an eye: and there Deaf with the drumming of an ear; A soul hung up, as ’twere, in chains Of nerves, and arteries, and veins; Tortured, besides each other part, In a vain head and double heart? "