If Virgil and Homer had but seen that sun which I can see today with my own eyes, they would have worked together to give praise only to her, and blent their styles in one;
carsten60394citeerde uit5 jaar geleden
I hate myself, and yet I love someone. I feed on grief, and as I weep I smile; and death and life seem bad as one another. And all this, lady, is what you have done
carsten60394citeerde uit5 jaar geleden
Now if not love, what is it that I feel? If it is love, what kind of thing is that? If it is good, why do I die of it? If bad, why is the pain so pleasurable? If I am willing, why do I lament?
carsten60394citeerde uit5 jaar geleden
Love treats me as the sunlight does the snow
carsten60394citeerde uit6 jaar geleden
She did not seem a mortal by her gait
carsten60394citeerde uit6 jaar geleden
That golden hair, enough to make the sun move enviously away, and that bright glance, sublime and yet so blazing with the rays of Love it makes me fade away before my time
carsten60394citeerde uit6 jaar geleden
I run away, but not so fast desire does not go with me, as his custom is;
carsten60394citeerde uit6 jaar geleden
the name that Love has written in my heart, once the LAUdation’s coming out we start to hear the sound of its first syllable. Your REgal state, the next thing that occurs, adds to the boldness of the enterprise; but the end is, ‘Do not TAlk in her praise –
carsten60394citeerde uit6 jaar geleden
I think it did not honour him at all to hit me with an arrow in that state: to you well armed not even flaunt his bow.