Poems you ought to know . 185 MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART. BY LOED ByRON. Zoe mou sas agapo.(My life, I love thee.) Maid of Athens, ere we part,Give, oh, give me back my heart!Or, since that has left my it now and take the rest!Hear my vow before I go,Zoe mou sas agapo. By those tresses unconfined,Wood by each ^gean wind;By those lids whose jetty fringeKiss thy soft cheeks blooming tinge;By those wild eyes like the roe,Zoe mou sas agapo. By that lip I long to taste;By that zone-encircled waist;By all the token-flowers that tellWhat words can never speak so well;By loves alternate j
Poems you ought to know . 185 MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART. BY LOED ByRON. Zoe mou sas agapo.(My life, I love thee.) Maid of Athens, ere we part,Give, oh, give me back my heart!Or, since that has left my it now and take the rest!Hear my vow before I go,Zoe mou sas agapo. By those tresses unconfined,Wood by each ^gean wind;By those lids whose jetty fringeKiss thy soft cheeks blooming tinge;By those wild eyes like the roe,Zoe mou sas agapo. By that lip I long to taste;By that zone-encircled waist;By all the token-flowers that tellWhat words can never speak so well;By loves alternate joy and woe,Zoe mou sas agapo. Maid of Athens! I am gone:Think of me, sweet! when I fly to Istambol,Athens holds my heart and soul:Can I cease to love thee ? No IZoe mou sas i86 X TO CELIA. BEN JONSON. Ben Jonson was born about the year 1573, at Westminster. Littleis known about his early life, but in 1597 he is found playing and writingfor The Admirals Men, and later for the Lord Chamberlains Ser-vants. Afterwards he stood in great favor at court, and wrote manyof his best plays during that time—the Alchemist, Catiline, Bar-tholomew Fair, and Epicoene. He died in 1637, after several yearsof illness, which affected his wit and brilliancy in such a manner thatmany of his later plays were not heard to the end. He is buried inWestminster Abbey. He also wrote some prose and some of the mostbeautiful lyrics of the English language. Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine;Or leave a kiss but in the cup And Ill not look for thirst that from the souldoth rise Doth ask a drink divine;But might I of Joves nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope that ther
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