The London magazine of light literature (conducted by W. Williams). Vol.3 is entitled London tales, poetry, sketches and travels].

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Will Williams
 

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Page 206 - MY lute, awake, perform the last Labour, that thou and I shall waste ; And end that I have now begun : And when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done. As to be heard where ear is none ; As lead to grave in marble stone ; My song may pierce her heart as soon. Should we then sigh, or sing, or moan ? No, no, my lute, for I have done.
Page 206 - In winter nights that are so cold, Plaining in vain unto the moon ; Thy wishes then dare not be told: Care then who list, for I have done.
Page 206 - The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves continually, As she my suit and affection, So that I am past remedy; Whereby my lute and I have done.
Page 417 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Page 204 - Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, As well as I may spend his time in vain, And graven with diamonds in letters plain There is written her fair neck round about: 'Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.
Page 204 - I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, As well as I, may spend his time in vain.
Page 206 - And then may chance thee to repent The time that thou hast lost and spent To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon; Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want as I have done.
Page 205 - Stephan said true, that my nativity Mischanced was with the ruler of May. He guessed (I prove) of that the verity. In May my wealth, and eke my wits, I say, Have stond so oft in such perplexity : Joy ; let me dream of your felicity.
Page 203 - I scape no wise : Nor letteth me live, nor die, at my devise, And yet of death it giveth me occasion. Without eye I see; without tongue I plain : I wish to perish, yet I ask for health; I love another, and I hate myself; I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.
Page 106 - I'd touch her neck so warm and white. And I would be the girdle About her dainty, dainty waist, And her heart would beat against me In sorrow and in rest: And I should know if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight. And I would...

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