'Come! Let us lay a lance in rest,
And tilt at windmills under a wild sky!
For who would live so petty and unblessed
That he dare not tilt at something, ere he die?'
Rather than, screened by safe majority,
Preserve his little life to little ends,
and never raise a rebel battle-cry!
Fragt ihr mich, was das Schöne sei?
Seht zu, ob ich´s verfehle;
Ein Gleichnis beut die Liebe mir:
Es geht vom Körper aus, gleich ihr,
und endigt in der Seele.
Fordi at hende Yndighed
Naturen ødsel gav,
Slaaer Julie, af Erkjendtlighed,
Den heller intet af! -
Nature, où sont tes Dieux ? Ô prophétique aïeule,
Ô chair mystérieuse où tout est contenu,
Qui pendant si longtemps as vécu de toi seule
Et qui sembles mourir, parle, qu’est devenu
‘Thank you, whatever comes.' And then she turned
And, as the ray of sun on hanging flowers
Fades when the wind hath lifted them aside,
Went swiftly from me. Nay, whatever comes
One hour was sunlit and the most high gods
May not make boast of any better thing
Than to have watched that hour as it passed.
Il dort. Quoique le sort fût pour lui bien étrange,
Il vivait. Il mourut quand il n'eut plus son ange ;
La chose simplement d'elle-même arriva,
Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s'en va.
J'ai vécu sans nul pensement,
Me laissant aller doucement
A la bonne loi naturelle,
Et si m'étonne fort pourquoi
La mort daigna songer à moi,
Qui n'ai daigné penser à elle.
Here lies a Dog.- may every Dog that dies
Lie in security - as this Dog lies.
Pluto, bid Rabelais welcome to thy shore,
That thou, who art the king of woe and pain,
Whose subjects never learned to laugh before,
May boast a laugher in thy grim domain.
One pitt containes him now that could not dye
Before a thousand pitts in him did lye;
Soe many spotts upon his flesh were shewne
'Cause on his soule sinne fastned almost none.
