- cid
- bafkreif75lgynuuzyzqcghsucdiuf7wgxlt3tdcfjn6fxhzysuz4l6iouu
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- 06_poems_pericles_facsimiles_1905_oxford_page_0562.jpg
- height
- 2400
- key
- pdf-page-1769752605311-pc3cnw56cz
- ocr_model
- mistral-ocr-latest
- page_number
- 562
- size
- 221313
- text
- # COMPLAINT.
And credent foule, to that strong bonded oth,
That shall preferre and undertake my troth.
This said, his watrie eies he did dismount,
Whose sightes till then were leaueld on my face,
Each cheeke a tiuer running from a fount,
With brynish currant downe-ward flowed a pace:
Oh how the channell to the streame gaue grace!
Who glaz’d with Christall gate the glowing Roses,
That flame through water which their hew incloses,
Oh father, what a hell of witch-craft lies,
In the small orb of one perticular teare?
Put with the invndation of the eies:
What rocky heart to water will not weare?
What brefs so cold that is not warmed heare,
Or cleft effect, coid modesty hot wrath:
Both fire from hence, and chill extincture hath.
For loe his passion but an art of craft,
Euen there resolu’d my reason into teares,
There my white stole of chastity I daft,
Shooke off my sober gardes, and ciuill seares,
Appeare to him as he to me appears:
All melting, though our drops this diffrence bore,
His poison’d me, and mine did him restore.
In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
Applied to Caustils, all straing formes receiues,
Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
Or sounding palenefse; and he takes and leaues,
In eithers aptnesse as it beft deceiues:
To blush at speeches rank, to weepe at woes
Or to turne white and found at tragick showes.
That not a heart which in his leuell came,
L a Could
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:20:21.798Z
- text_extracted_by
- ocr-service
- text_has_content
- true
- text_images_count
- 0
- text_source
- ocr
- uploaded
- true
- width
- 1750