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Henry King, Bishop of Chichester (Генри Кинг, епископ Чичестерский)


The Retreat


Pursue no more (my thoughts!) that false unkind,
You may assoon imprison the North-wind;
Or catch the Lightning as it leaps; or reach
The leading billow first ran down the breach;
Or undertake the flying clouds to track
In the same path they yesterday did rack.
Then, like a Torch turn'd downward, let the same
Desire which nourisht it, put out your flame.
Loe thus I doe divorce thee from my brest,
False to thy vow, and traitour to my rest!
Henceforth thy tears shall be (though thou repent)
Like pardons after execution sent.
Nor shalt thou ever my loves story read,
But as some Epitaph of what is dead.
So may my hope on future blessings dwell,
As 'tis my firm resolve and last farewell.



Henry King, Bishop of Chichester's other poems:
  1. To a Lady Who Sent me a Copy of Verses at my Going to Bed
  2. Psalm I
  3. Tell Me No More How Fair She Is
  4. The Short Wooing
  5. To His Friends of Christ-Church upon the Mislike of the Marriage of the Arts Acted at Woodstock


Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Henry Vaughan (Генри Воэн) The Retreat ("Happy those early days, when I")

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