Songs In "The Conquest Of Granada."

I.

    Wherever I am, and whatever I do,
    My Phyllis is still in my mind;
    When angry, I mean not to Phyllis to go,
    My feet, of themselves, the way find:
    Unknown to myself I am just at her door,
    And when I would rail, I can bring out no more,
    Than, Phyllis too fair and unkind!

    When Phyllis I see, my heart bounds in my breast,
    And the love I would stifle is shown;
    But asleep or awake I am never at rest,
    When from my eyes Phyllis is gone.
    Sometimes a sad dream does delude my sad mind;
    But, alas! when I wake, and no Phyllis I find,
    How I sigh to myself all alone!

    Should a king be my rival in her I adore,
    He should offer his treasure in vain:
    Oh, let me alone to be happy and poor,
    And give me my Phyllis again!
    Let Phyllis be mine, and but ever be kind,
    I could to a desert with her be confined,
    And envy no monarch his reign.

    Alas! I discover too much of my love,
    And she too well knows her own power!
    She makes me each day a new martyrdom prove,
    And makes me grow jealous each hour:
    But let her each minute torment my poor mind,
    I had rather love Phyllis, both false and unkind,
    Than ever be freed from her power.

II.

    HE.    How unhappy a lover am I,
        While I sigh for my Phyllis in vain:
    All my hopes of delight
    Are another man's right,
        Who is happy, while I am in pain!

    SHE. Since her honour allows no relief,
        But to pity the pains which you bear,
    'Tis the best of your fate,
    In a hopeless estate,
        To give o'er, and betimes to despair.

    HE.    I have tried the false medicine in vain;
        For I wish what I hope not to win:
    From without, my desire
    Has no food to its fire;
        But it burns and consumes me within.

    SHE. Yet, at least, 'tis a pleasure to know
        That you are not unhappy alone:
    For the nymph you adore
    Is as wretched, and more;
        And counts all your sufferings her own.

    HE.    O ye gods, let me suffer for both;
        At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie:
    I'll resign up my breath,
    And take pleasure in death,
        To be pitied by her when I die.

    SHE. What her honour denied you in life,
        In her death she will give to your love.
    Such a flame as is true
    After fate will renew,
        For the souls to meet closer above.

John Dryden

John Dryden was an influential English poet, literary critic, translator, and playwright who was made England’s first Poet Laureate in 1668. His work dominated the literary life of Restoration England and he is seen as a major figure in the literary history of the period. Dryden's notable works include the satirical poem 'Absalom and Achitophel' and the mock-heroic 'Mac Flecknoe.'

John Dryden

Prologue To "The Loyal Brother; Or, The Persian Prince;"[1] By Mr Southern, 1682.

John Dryden, Simple Poetry

Prologue To The Tempest.

John Dryden, Simple Poetry

Prologue To The Rival Ladies.

John Dryden, Simple Poetry

Song. Farewell, Fair Armida.

John Dryden, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Song Of A Scholar And His Mistress,

Who, Being Crossed By Their Friends, Fell Mad For One Another; And Now First Meet In Bedlam.


[Music within.]

The Lovers enter at opposite doors, each held by a keeper.


    Phillis. Look, look I see--I see my love appear!
    'Tis he--'Tis he alone;
    For, like him, there is none:
    'Tis the dear, dear man, 'tis thee, dear.

    Amyntas. Hark! the winds war;
    The foamy waves roar;
    I see a ship afar:
    Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore:
            But what's that I view,
            So radiant of hue,
    St Hermo, St Hermo, that sits upon the sails?
            Ah! No, no, no.
    St Hermo never, never shone so bright;
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John Dryden

Honeymoon Scene (From The Drama Of Mizpah)

AHASUERAS

What were thy thoughts, sweet Esther?    Something passed
Across thy face, that for a moment veiled
Thy soul from mine, and left me desolate.
Thy thoughts were not of me?

ESTHER

    Ay, ALL of thee!
I wondered, if in truth, thou wert content
With me - thy choice.    Was there no other one
Of all who passed before thee at thy court
Whose memory pursues thee with regret?

AHASUERAS

I do confess I much regret that day
And wish I could relive it.

ESTHER

    Oh!    My lord!

AHASUERAS

Yea!    I regret those hours I wasted on
The poor procession that preceded thee.
Hadst thou come first, then all the added wealth

    Of one long day of loving thee were mine -
A boundless for...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Horace To Phyllis

Come, Phyllis, I've a cask of wine
That fairly reeks with precious juices,
And in your tresses you shall twine
The loveliest flowers this vale produces.

My cottage wears a gracious smile,--
The altar, decked in floral glory,
Yearns for the lamb which bleats the while
As though it pined for honors gory.

Hither our neighbors nimbly fare,--
The boys agog, the maidens snickering;
And savory smells possess the air
As skyward kitchen flames are flickering.

You ask what means this grand display,
This festive throng, and goodly diet?
Well, since you're bound to have your way,
I don't mind telling, on the quiet.

'Tis April 13, as you know,--
A day and month devote to Venus,
Whereon was born, some years ago,
My very worthy friend M...

Eugene Field

Lament, Occasioned By The Unfortunate Issue Of A Friend's Amour.

    "Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself!
    And sweet affection prove the spring of woe."

Home.


I.

    O thou pale orb, that silent shines,
        While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
    Thou seest a wretch who inly pines,
        And wanders here to wail and weep!
    With woe I nightly vigils keep,
        Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam,
    And mourn, in lamentation deep,
        How life and love are all a dream.

II.

    A joyless view thy rays adorn
        The faintly marked distant hill:
    I joyless view thy trembling horn,
        Reflected in the gurgling rill:
    My fondly-fluttering heart, be still:
        Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease!
    Ah! must the agonizing thrill
    ...

Robert Burns

Song

To the tune of "Basciami vita mia."

Sleep, baby mine, Desire's nurse, Beauty, singeth;
Thy cries, O baby, set mine head on aching:
The babe cries, "'Way, thy love doth keep me waking."

Lully, lully, my babe, Hope cradle bringeth
Unto my children alway good rest taking:
The babe cries, "Way, thy love doth keep me waking."

Since, baby mine, from me thy watching springeth,
Sleep then a little, pap Content is making;
The babe cries, "Nay, for that abide I waking."

I.

The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace;
The smoke of hell, the monster called Pain:
Long shamed to be accursed in every place,
By them who of his rude resort complain;
Like crafty wretch, by time and travel taught,
His ugly evil in others' good to hide;
La...

Philip Sidney

A Lover's Litanies - Ninth Litany. Lilium inter Spinas.

i.

Dearest and best of maidens, whom the Fates
    have dower'd with beauty, whom the glory-gates
Have shown so splendid in my waking sight,
Is't well, thou syren! thus to haunt the night
And grant no mercy, none from week to week
All through the year? Is't well my soul to seek
    And shun my body? Is't throughout ordain'd
That thou shouldst spurn a love so tender-meek?


ii.

It is my joy to serve thee, 'tis my pride
    To own my follies, though anew denied
The chance of wisdom, and for this, who knows?
I shall be counted, ere the season's close,
A time-perverter. Yes! I shall be shamed,
And frown'd upon, and day by day proclaim'd
    A foe to virtue, though, in seeking thee
I seek the goal that Virtue's self hath named.

Eric Mackay