human
Do you remember the lines on the ring which he gave his lady? They are the origin and pattern of all the verses written by lovers on that pretty metempsychosis which shall make them slippers, or fans, or girdles, like Waller's, and like that which bound
gpt
Ring that shalt bind the finger fair Of my sweet maid, thou art not rare; Thou hast not any price above The token of her poet's love; Her finger may'st thou mate as she Is mated every wise with me!
human
In vain I wish! So, ring, depart, And say 'with me thou hast his heart'!
gpt
The Chronicle
human
Margarita first possessed, If I remember well, my breast, Margarita, first of all;
gpt
as the monotonous singsong of his eternal elegiacs. The lightest of light things, the poet of society, should possess more varied strains; like Horace, Martial, Thackeray, not like Ovid and (here is a heresy) Praed. Inimitably well as Praed does his trick of antithesis, I still feel that it _is_ a trick, and that most rhymers could follow him in a mere mechanic art. But here the judgment of Mr. Locker would be opposed to this modest opinion, and there would be opposition again where Mr. Locker calls Dr. O. W. Holmes