Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498946" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Amyntor's Grove, His Chloris, Arigo, And Gratiana. An Elogie</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was Amyntor's Grove, that Chloris<br>For ever ecchoes, and her glories;<br>Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdesse,<br>That ever lawnes and lambes did blesse;<br>Her breath, like to the whispering winde,<br>Was calme as thought, sweet as her minde;<br>Her lips like coral gates kept in<br>The perfume and the pearle within;<br>Her eyes a double-flaming torch<br>That alwayes shine, and never scorch;<br>Her selfe the Heav'n in which did meet<br>The all of bright, of faire and sweet.<br> Here was I brought with that delight<br>That seperated soules take flight;<br>And when my reason call'd my sence<br>Back somewhat from this excellence,<br>That I could see, I did begin<br>T' observe the curious ordering<br>Of every roome, where 'ts hard to know,<br>Which most excels in sent or show.<br>Arabian gummes do breathe here forth,<br>And th' East's come over to the North;<br>The windes have brought their hyre of sweet<br>To see Amyntor Chloris greet;<br>Balme and nard, and each perfume,<br>To blesse this payre, chafe and consume;<br>And th' Phoenix, see! already fries!<br>Her neast a fire in Chloris eyes!<br> Next the great and powerful hand<br>Beckens my thoughts unto a stand<br>Of Titian, Raphael, Georgone<br>Whose art even Nature hath out-done;<br>For if weake Nature only can<br>Intend, not perfect, what is man,<br>These certainely we must prefer,<br>Who mended what she wrought, and her;<br>And sure the shadowes of those rare<br>And kind incomparable fayre<br>Are livelier, nobler company,<br>Then if they could or speake, or see:<br>For these I aske without a tush,<br>Can kisse or touch without a blush,<br>And we are taught that substance is,<br>If uninjoy'd, but th' shade of blisse.<br> Now every saint cleerly divine,<br>Is clos'd so in her severall shrine;<br>The gems so rarely, richly set,<br>For them wee love the cabinet;<br>So intricately plac't withall,<br>As if th' imbrordered the wall,<br>So that the pictures seem'd to be<br>But one continued tapistrie.<br> After this travell of mine eyes<br>We sate, and pitied Dieties;<br>Wee bound our loose hayre with the vine,<br>The poppy, and the eglantine;<br>One swell'd an oriental bowle<br>Full, as a grateful, loyal soule<br>To Chloris! Chloris! Heare, oh, heare!<br>'Tis pledg'd above in ev'ry sphere.<br> Now streight the Indians richest prize<br>Is kindled in glad sacrifice;<br>Cloudes are sent up on wings of thyme,<br>Amber, pomgranates, jessemine,<br>And through our earthen conduicts sore<br>Higher then altars fum'd before.<br> So drencht we our oppressing cares,<br>And choakt the wide jawes of our feares.<br>Whilst ravisht thus we did devise,<br>If this were not a Paradice<br>In all, except these harmlesse sins:<br>Behold! flew in two cherubins,<br>Cleare as the skye from whence they came,<br>And brighter than the sacred flame;<br>The boy adorn'd with modesty,<br>Yet armed so with majesty,<br>That if the Thunderer againe<br>His eagle sends, she stoops in vaine.<br>Besides his innocence he tooke<br>A sword and casket, and did looke<br>Like Love in armes; he wrote but five,<br>Yet spake eighteene; each grace did strive,<br>And twenty Cupids thronged forth,<br>Who first should shew his prettier worth.<br>But oh, the Nymph! Did you ere know<br>Carnation mingled with snow?<br>Or have you seene the lightning shrowd,<br>And straight breake through th' opposing cloud?<br>So ran her blood; such was its hue;<br>So through her vayle her bright haire flew,<br>And yet its glory did appeare<br>But thinne, because her eyes were neere.<br> Blooming boy, and blossoming mayd,<br>May your faire sprigges be neere betray'd<br>To eating worme or fouler storme;<br>No serpent lurke to do them harme;<br>No sharpe frost cut, no North-winde teare,<br>The verdure of that fragrant hayre;<br>But may the sun and gentle weather,<br>When you are both growne ripe together,<br>Load you with fruit, such as your Father<br>From you with all the joyes doth gather:<br>And may you, when one branch is dead,<br>Graft such another in its stead,<br>Lasting thus ever in your prime,<br>'Till th' sithe is snatcht away from Time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Lovelace">Richard Lovelace</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498946" data-title="Amyntor's Grove, His Chloris, Arigo, And Gratiana. An Elogie de Richard Lovelace" data-description="It was Amyntor's Grove, that Chloris
For ever ecchoes, and her glories;
Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdesse,
That ever lawnes and lambes did blesse;
Her breath, like to the whispering winde,
Was calme as thought, sweet as her minde;
Her lips like ..."></div>
</div>
</div>