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ﻮﺑﻻگ
Iran
On Parent Knees, A Naked New-born Child, Weeping Thou Sat'st While All Around Thee Smiled
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On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled;
So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep,
Calm thou mayst smile, while all around thee weep.
-- Sir William Jones (1746-1794)
-- From the Persian
Related:
Remember thee Ay, thou poor ghost while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe.
Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there....
Yet spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee, But like thine own eagle that soars to the sun Thou springest from bondage and leavest behind thee A name which before thee no mortal hath won.
Tho' nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle, No more on thy steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plai...
Let but thy wicked men from out thee go, And all the fools that crowd thee so, Even thou, who dost thy millions boast, A village less than Islington wilt grow, A solitude almost.
-- Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) -- Of Solitude, vii...
Remember thee Ay, thou poor ghost while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe.
Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there....
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee
Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues....
In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou 'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow, Hast so much wit and mirth and spleen about thee, There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
-- Joseph Addison (1672-1719) -- Spectator, No. 68...
Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst yesterday.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Othello -- Act iii, Sc. 3...
O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Othello -- Act iv, Sc. 2...
If I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee
But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be....