Автор: THOMAS CAMPION

Kinde are her answeres, But her performance keeps no day; Breaks time, as dancers From their own Musicke when they […]

Your faire lookes enflame my desire: Quench it againe with loue. Stay, O striue not still to retire: Doe not […]

Now winter nights enlarge The number of their hours, And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now […]

Fire, fire, fire, fire. Loe here I burne in such desire That all the teares that I can straine Out […]

(imitation of Catallus) My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let […]

Neuer loue vnlesse you can Beare with all the faults of man: Men sometimes will iealous bee, Though but little […]

Shall I come, sweet Loue, to thee When the eu’ning beames are set? Shall I not excluded be? Will you […]

What is a day, what is a yeere? Of vaine delight and pleasure? Like to a dreame it endlesse dies, […]

Rose-cheeked Laura, come, Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty’s Silent music, either other Sweetly gracing. Lovely forms do flow From […]

I care not for these ladies That must be woo’d and pray’d Give me sweet Amaryllis The wanton country maid, […]

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow! Though thou be black as night, And she made all of light, Yet follow […]

I care not for these ladies that must be wooed and prayed; Give me kind Amaryllis, the wanton country maid. […]

My loue hath vowd hee will forsake mee, And I am alreadie sped. Far other promise he did make me […]

When Laura smiles her sight reuiues both night and day: The earth and heauen viewes with delight her wanton play […]

Thrice toss those oaken ashes in the air; Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair; Then thrice three times […]