By William Walsh (1662-1708).
Distracted with care
For Phillis the fair,
Since nothing could move her,
Poor Damon, her lover,
Resolves in despair 5
No longer to languish
Nor bear so much anguish;
But, mad with his love,
To a precipice goes,
Where a leap from above 10
Would soon finish his woes.
When in rage he came there,
Beholding how steep
The sides did appear,
And the bottom how deep; 15
His torments projecting,
And sadly reflecting
That a lover forsaken
A new love may get,
But a neck when once broken 20
Isn’t easily set:
And that he could die
Whenever he would,
But that he could live
But as long as he could: 25
How grievous soever
The torment might grow,
He scorned to endeavour
To finish it so;
And bold, unconcerned 30
At thoughts of the pain,
He calmly returned
To his cottage again.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
From "The Noble Spanish Soldier"
By Thomas Dekker (1572?-1630).
O, Sorrow°, Sorrow, say where dost thou dwell?
In the lowest room of hell.
Art thou born of human race?
No, no, I have a furier face.
Art thou in city, town, or court? 5
I to every place resort.
O, why into the world is Sorrow sent?
Men afflicted best repent.
What dost thou feed on?
Broken sleep. 10
What takest thou pleasure in?
To weep,
To sigh, to sob, to pine, to groan,
To wring my hands, to sit alone.
O when, O when shall Sorrow quiet have? 15
Never, never, never, never,
Never till she finds a grave.
Notes:
Line 1: O, Sorrow. Prof. Schelling comments on the popularity of this dialogue form in Elizabethan songs, citing a stanza from a recently discovered play of Heywood’s, The Captive, or the Lost Recovered, 1624 (Bullen’s Old English Plays), beginning:
O charity, where art thou fled
And now how long hast thou been dead?
O many, many, many hundred years.
In village, borough, town or city,
Remain there yet no grace no pity?
Not in sighs, not in want, not in tears, etc. [Braithwaite]
O, Sorrow°, Sorrow, say where dost thou dwell?
In the lowest room of hell.
Art thou born of human race?
No, no, I have a furier face.
Art thou in city, town, or court? 5
I to every place resort.
O, why into the world is Sorrow sent?
Men afflicted best repent.
What dost thou feed on?
Broken sleep. 10
What takest thou pleasure in?
To weep,
To sigh, to sob, to pine, to groan,
To wring my hands, to sit alone.
O when, O when shall Sorrow quiet have? 15
Never, never, never, never,
Never till she finds a grave.
Notes:
Line 1: O, Sorrow. Prof. Schelling comments on the popularity of this dialogue form in Elizabethan songs, citing a stanza from a recently discovered play of Heywood’s, The Captive, or the Lost Recovered, 1624 (Bullen’s Old English Plays), beginning:
O charity, where art thou fled
And now how long hast thou been dead?
O many, many, many hundred years.
In village, borough, town or city,
Remain there yet no grace no pity?
Not in sighs, not in want, not in tears, etc. [Braithwaite]
Monday, May 19, 2014
Our Lady
By Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (1861-1907).
Mother of God! no lady thou:
Common woman of common earth
Our Lady ladies call thee now,
But Christ was never of gentle birth;
A common man of the common earth. 5
For God’s ways are not as our ways.
The noblest lady in the land
Would have given up half her days,
Would have cut off her right hand,
To bear the child that was God of the land. 10
Never a lady did He choose,
Only a maid of low degree,
So humble she might not refuse
The carpenter of Galilee:
A daughter of the people, she. 15
Out she sang the song of her heart.
Never a lady so had sung.
She knew no letters, had no art;
To all mankind, in woman’s tongue,
Hath Israelitish Mary sung. 20
And still for men to come she sings,
Nor shall her singing pass away.
‘He hath fillèd the hungry with good things’—
Oh, listen, lords and ladies gay!—
‘And the rich He hath sent empty away.’° 25
Notes
Lines 23 and 25: 'He hath filled... sent empty away.' Luke 1:53.
Mother of God! no lady thou:
Common woman of common earth
Our Lady ladies call thee now,
But Christ was never of gentle birth;
A common man of the common earth. 5
For God’s ways are not as our ways.
The noblest lady in the land
Would have given up half her days,
Would have cut off her right hand,
To bear the child that was God of the land. 10
Never a lady did He choose,
Only a maid of low degree,
So humble she might not refuse
The carpenter of Galilee:
A daughter of the people, she. 15
Out she sang the song of her heart.
Never a lady so had sung.
She knew no letters, had no art;
To all mankind, in woman’s tongue,
Hath Israelitish Mary sung. 20
And still for men to come she sings,
Nor shall her singing pass away.
‘He hath fillèd the hungry with good things’—
Oh, listen, lords and ladies gay!—
‘And the rich He hath sent empty away.’° 25
Notes
Lines 23 and 25: 'He hath filled... sent empty away.' Luke 1:53.
Ode On The Pleasure Arising From Vicissitude°
By Thomas Gray (1716-1771).
Now the golden morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek, and whisper soft
She wooes the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around 5
The sleeping fragrance from the ground;
And lightly o’er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking° ply their feeble feet; 10
Forgetful of their wintry trance,
The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the sky-lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight, 15
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by: 20
Their raptures now that wildly flow,
No yesterday, nor morrow know;
’Tis man alone that joy descries
With forward, and reverted eyes.
Smiles on past misfortune’s brow 25
Soft reflection’s hand can trace;
And o’er the cheek of sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;
While hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lower 30
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy pleasure leads,
See a kindred grief pursue;
Behind the steps that misery treads 35
Approaching comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastised by sabler tints of woe;
And blended form, with artful strife
The strength and harmony of life. 40
See the wretch, that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost,
And breathe, and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale, 45
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
Notes
Title: vicissitude. Chance, mutation, mutability.
Line 10: frisking. Dancing, leaping, frolicking.
Now the golden morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek, and whisper soft
She wooes the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around 5
The sleeping fragrance from the ground;
And lightly o’er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking° ply their feeble feet; 10
Forgetful of their wintry trance,
The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the sky-lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight, 15
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by: 20
Their raptures now that wildly flow,
No yesterday, nor morrow know;
’Tis man alone that joy descries
With forward, and reverted eyes.
Smiles on past misfortune’s brow 25
Soft reflection’s hand can trace;
And o’er the cheek of sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;
While hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lower 30
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy pleasure leads,
See a kindred grief pursue;
Behind the steps that misery treads 35
Approaching comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastised by sabler tints of woe;
And blended form, with artful strife
The strength and harmony of life. 40
See the wretch, that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost,
And breathe, and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale, 45
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
Notes
Title: vicissitude. Chance, mutation, mutability.
Line 10: frisking. Dancing, leaping, frolicking.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Prologue To Book II Of The Fairy Queen
By Edmund Spenser (1552-1599).
Right well I wote, most mighty sovereign;
That all this famous antique history,
Of some, th' abundance of an idle brain,
Will judged be, and painted forgery,
Rather than matter of just memory; 5
Sith° none that breatheth living air, does know,
Where is that happy Land of Fairy,
Which I so much do vaunt, yet nowhere show,
But vouch antiquities, which nobody can know.
But let that man with better sense advise, 10
That of the world least part to us is read;
And daily how through hardy enterprise,
Many great regions are discovered,
Which to late age were never mentioned.
Who ever heard of th' Indian Peru? 15
Or who in venturous vessel measured
The Amazon's huge river now found true?
Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever view?
Yet all these were, when no man did them know;
Yet have from wisest ages hidden been: 20
And later times things more unknown shall show.
Why then should witless man so much misween,
That nothing is, but that which he hath seen?
What if within the moon's fair shining sphere,
What if in every other star unseen, 25
Of other worlds he happily should hear?
He wonder would much more: yet such to some appear.
Of Fairyland yet if he more enquire,
By certain signs, here set in sundry place,
He may it find; ne let him then admire, 30
But yield his sense to be too blunt and base,
That no'te without an hound fine footing trace.
And thou, o fairest princess under sky,
In this fair mirror mayst behold thy face,
And thine own realms in Land of Fairy, 35
And in this antique image thy great ancestry.
The which, o pardon me thus to enfold
In covert veil, and wrap in shadows light,
That feeble eyes your glory may behold,
Which else could not endure those beames bright: 40
But would be dazzled with exceeding light.
O pardon, and vouchsafe with patient ear
The brave adventures of this fairy knight,
The good Sir Guyon, graciously to hear,
In whom great rule of Temp'rance goodly doth appear. 45
Notes
Line 6: sith. Since.
Right well I wote, most mighty sovereign;
That all this famous antique history,
Of some, th' abundance of an idle brain,
Will judged be, and painted forgery,
Rather than matter of just memory; 5
Sith° none that breatheth living air, does know,
Where is that happy Land of Fairy,
Which I so much do vaunt, yet nowhere show,
But vouch antiquities, which nobody can know.
But let that man with better sense advise, 10
That of the world least part to us is read;
And daily how through hardy enterprise,
Many great regions are discovered,
Which to late age were never mentioned.
Who ever heard of th' Indian Peru? 15
Or who in venturous vessel measured
The Amazon's huge river now found true?
Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever view?
Yet all these were, when no man did them know;
Yet have from wisest ages hidden been: 20
And later times things more unknown shall show.
Why then should witless man so much misween,
That nothing is, but that which he hath seen?
What if within the moon's fair shining sphere,
What if in every other star unseen, 25
Of other worlds he happily should hear?
He wonder would much more: yet such to some appear.
Of Fairyland yet if he more enquire,
By certain signs, here set in sundry place,
He may it find; ne let him then admire, 30
But yield his sense to be too blunt and base,
That no'te without an hound fine footing trace.
And thou, o fairest princess under sky,
In this fair mirror mayst behold thy face,
And thine own realms in Land of Fairy, 35
And in this antique image thy great ancestry.
The which, o pardon me thus to enfold
In covert veil, and wrap in shadows light,
That feeble eyes your glory may behold,
Which else could not endure those beames bright: 40
But would be dazzled with exceeding light.
O pardon, and vouchsafe with patient ear
The brave adventures of this fairy knight,
The good Sir Guyon, graciously to hear,
In whom great rule of Temp'rance goodly doth appear. 45
Notes
Line 6: sith. Since.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Upon Black Eyes And Becoming Frowns
By James Howell (1594-1666).
Black eyes! in your dark orbs do lie
My ill, or happy, destiny;
If with clear looks you me behold,
You give me mines and mounts of gold;
If you dart forth disdainful rays, 5
To your own dye you turn my days.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, by changes dwell,
My bane or bliss, my paradise or hell.
That lamp, which all the stars doth blind,
Yields to your lustre, in some kind; 10
Though you do wear, to make you bright,
No other dress but that of night;
He glitters only in the day;
You, in the dark, your beams display.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, etc.
The cunning thief that lurks for prize, 15
At some dark corner watching lies:
So that heart-robbing god doth stand
In your black lobbies, shaft in hand,
To rifle° me of what I hold
More precious far than Indian gold.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, etc. 20
O powerful negromantic° eyes!
Who in your circles strictly pries,
Will find that Cupid with his dart,
In youth doth practise the black art°;
And, by those spells I am possest, 25
Tries his conclusions in my breast.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, etc.
Look on me, though in frowning wise;
Some kinds of frowns become Black Eyes;
As pointed diamonds, being set,
Cast greater lustre out of jet? 30
Those pieces we esteem most rare,
Which in night-shadows postured are;
Darkness in churches congregates the sight;
Devotion strays in glaring light.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, by changes dwell, 35
My bane or bliss, my paradise or hell.
Notes
Line 18: rifle. Search and rob.
Line 21: negromantic. Necromantic, bewitching.
Line 24: black art. Witchcraft, magic.
Black eyes! in your dark orbs do lie
My ill, or happy, destiny;
If with clear looks you me behold,
You give me mines and mounts of gold;
If you dart forth disdainful rays, 5
To your own dye you turn my days.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, by changes dwell,
My bane or bliss, my paradise or hell.
That lamp, which all the stars doth blind,
Yields to your lustre, in some kind; 10
Though you do wear, to make you bright,
No other dress but that of night;
He glitters only in the day;
You, in the dark, your beams display.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, etc.
The cunning thief that lurks for prize, 15
At some dark corner watching lies:
So that heart-robbing god doth stand
In your black lobbies, shaft in hand,
To rifle° me of what I hold
More precious far than Indian gold.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, etc. 20
O powerful negromantic° eyes!
Who in your circles strictly pries,
Will find that Cupid with his dart,
In youth doth practise the black art°;
And, by those spells I am possest, 25
Tries his conclusions in my breast.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, etc.
Look on me, though in frowning wise;
Some kinds of frowns become Black Eyes;
As pointed diamonds, being set,
Cast greater lustre out of jet? 30
Those pieces we esteem most rare,
Which in night-shadows postured are;
Darkness in churches congregates the sight;
Devotion strays in glaring light.
Black eyes, in your dark orbs, by changes dwell, 35
My bane or bliss, my paradise or hell.
Notes
Line 18: rifle. Search and rob.
Line 21: negromantic. Necromantic, bewitching.
Line 24: black art. Witchcraft, magic.
Upon Julia's Hair Filled With Dew
By Robert Herrick (1591-1674).
Dew sat on Julia’s hair,
And spangled too,
Like leaves that laden are
With trembling dew:
Or glittered to my sight 5
As when the beams
Have their reflected light
Danced by the streams.
Dew sat on Julia’s hair,
And spangled too,
Like leaves that laden are
With trembling dew:
Or glittered to my sight 5
As when the beams
Have their reflected light
Danced by the streams.
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