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Best Famous Christopher Marlowe Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Christopher Marlowe poems. This is a select list of the best famous Christopher Marlowe poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Christopher Marlowe poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Christopher Marlowe poems.

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by Algernon Charles Swinburne | |

Christopher Marlowe

 Crowned, girdled, garbed and shod with light and fire,
Son first-born of the morning, sovereign star!
Soul nearest ours of all, that wert most far,
Most far off in the abysm of time, thy lyre
Hung highest above the dawn-enkindled quire
Where all ye sang together, all that are,
And all the starry songs behind thy car
Rang sequence, all our souls acclaim thee sire.
"If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts," And as with rush of hurtling chariots The flight of all their spirits were impelled Toward one great end, thy glory--nay, not then, Not yet might'st thou be praised enough of men.


by Christopher Marlowe | |

Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?

 It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should love, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows; let it suffice What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?


by Christopher Marlowe | |

Hero and Leander

 It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is over-rul'd by fate.
hen two are stript long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows; let it suffice, What we behold is censur'd by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight.


by Christopher Marlowe | |

The face that launchd a thousand ships

 Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sack'd; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appear'd to hapless Semele; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms; And none but thou shalt be my paramour!


by Christopher Marlowe | |

Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?

 It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should love, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows; let it suffice What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?


by Christopher Marlowe | |

Hero and Leander

 It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is over-rul'd by fate.
hen two are stript long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows; let it suffice, What we behold is censur'd by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight.


by Christopher Marlowe | |

The face that launchd a thousand ships

 Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sack'd; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appear'd to hapless Semele; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms; And none but thou shalt be my paramour!