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Updated: May 11, 2025
He lavished money on the Church, whereas strongholds were required in defence of Christendom, and finally he adopted the tonsure. This struck home to the family and made Boleslav's cup of bitterness o'erflow; he plotted more persistently than ever against Wenceslaus.
O Love! the flooded moon is at its height, And trances sea and land with tranquil light. So shine, and gild with beauty all my night! O Love! the ocean floods the crooked shore, Till sighing beaches give their moaning o'er. So, Love, o'erflow me, till I sigh no more! O wife! the fragrant Mayflower now appears, Fresh as the Pilgrims saw it through their tears.
'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breast inflames, The golden spoil, thine the lovely dames. With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o'erflow. Again, Achilles thus: Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conquering powers Shall humble to the dust Troy's lofty towers; but Thersites thus: Whom I or some Greek else as captive bring.
I know, that royal Philip to his slaves Hath sold his only son, and every wretch, Who takes account of each half-uttered word, Receives such princely guerdon as was ne'er Bestowed on deeds of honor, Oh, I know But hush! no more of that! My heart will else O'erflow and I've already said too much. DOMINGO. The king is minded, ere the set of sun, To reach Madrid: I see the court is mustering.
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn; But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays, One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze O'erflow thy courts; the Light himself shall shine Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine!
When our heads are bowed with woe, When our bitter tears o'erflow, have long since taken their permanent place in devotional literature. In another and very different field of poetry also he greatly excelled.
Thus on the chill Lapponian's dreary land, For many a long month lost in snow profound, When Sol from Cancer sends the seasons bland, And in their northern cave the storms hath bound; From silent mountains, straight, with startling sound, Torrents are hurl'd, green hills emerge, and lo, The trees with foliage, cliffs with flow'rs are crown'd; Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go; And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant's heart o'erflow.
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