Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

5

To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:

10 MICHAEL DRAYTON (1663–1631) My verse your virtues rare shall eternize, And in the heavens write your glorious SINCE THERE'S NO HELP

name. Where, whenas death shall all the world | Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and subdue,

part! Our love shall live, and later life | Nay, I have done, you get no more of renew."

me; LXXIX

And I am glad, yea, glad, with all my

heart, Men call you fair, and you do credit it,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free. For that yourself ye daily such do see; But the true fair, that is the gentle wit

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our

vows; And virtuous mind, is much more praised

And when we meet at any time again, of me:

Be it not seen in either of our brows, For all the rest, however fair it be, 5

| That we one jot of former love retain. Shall turn to nought and lose that glorious

Now at the last gasp of Love's latest hue;

breath, But only that is permanent and free From frail corruption that doth flesh ensue.

When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless That is true beauty; that doth argue you

lies;

10 To be divine, and born of heavenly seed; 10

When Faith is kneeling by his bed of

death, Derived from that fair Spirit from whom

And Innocence is closing up his eyes,all true And perfect beauty did at first proceed:

Now, if thou wouldst, when all have

given him over, He only fair, and what he fair hath

From death to life thou might'st him made; All other fair, like flowers, untimely

yet recover! fade.

SAMUEL DANIEL (1662–1619)

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616) CARE-CHARMER SLEEP

XVIII

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Night,

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Brother to Death, in silent darkness born: May, Relieve my languish, and restore the light; And summer's lease hath all too short a With dark forgetting of my care, return! date; And let the day be time enough to mourn Sometime too hot the eye of heaven The shipwreck of my ill-adventured shines, youth:

And often is his gold complexion dimmed; Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn, And every fairl from fair sometime deWithout the torment of the night's un clines, truth.

By chance or nature's changing course unCease, dreams, the images of day-desires, trimmed; To model forth the passions of the morrow; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Never let rising sun approve you liars, II Nor lose possession of that fair thou To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow. ow'st;2

10 Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in vain;

his shade, And never wake to feel the day's dis- When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: dain.

1 beauty.

a ownest.

6

So long as men can breathe or eyes can

XXXIII see,

Full many a glorious morning have I seen « So long lives this and this gives life to

Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign thee.

eye, 1

Kissing with golden face the meadows XXIX

green, a When, in disgrace with fortune and men's / Gilding pale streams with heavenly aleyes,

chemy, I all alone beweep my outcast state,

Anon permit the basest clouds to ride 5 And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless

With ugly rack” on his celestial face, cries,

And from the forlorn world his visage hide, And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Wishing me like to one more rich in Even so my sun one early morn did shine hope,

With all-triumphant splendor on my Featured like him, like him with friends

brow;

10 possessed,

But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; Desiring this man's art and that man's

The regiono cloud hath masked him from scope,

me now. With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet him for this my love no whit disYet in these thoughts myself almost de

daineth; spising,

Suns of the world may stain, when Haply I think on thee, and then my heaven's sun staineth. state,

10 Like to the lark at break of day arising

LXIV From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's When I have seen by Time's fell hand degate;

faced For thy sweet love remembered such | The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; wealth brings

When sometime lofty towers I see down-. That then I scorn to change my state 1. razed, with kings.

And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;

When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 5 XXX

Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, When to the sessions of sweet silent

And the firm soil win of the watery main, thought

Increasing store with loss and loss with I summon up remembrance of things past,

store; I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

When I have seen such interchange of And with old woes new wail my dear time's

state,

Or state itself confounded to decay; 10 waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, 5 |

Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,

That Time will come and take my love For precious friends hid in death's date

away. less night, And weep afresh love's long-since can

This thought is as a death, which cancelled woe,

not choose And moan the expense of many a vanished

But weep to have that which it fears to sight:

lose.

LXV Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er 10 Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan, boundless sea, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, · But if the while I think on thee, dear How with this rage shall beauty hold a friend,

plea, All losses are restored and sorrows end. | Whose action is no stronger than a flower?

1 ? broken masses of flying cloud. 3 of the upper air.

1 loss.

LXXIII

O, how shall summer's honey breath hold Lest the wise world should look into out

your moan Against the wracksul siege of batt'ring And mock you with me after I am gone.

days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time de

That time of year thou mayst in me becays?

hold O fearful meditation! where, alack,

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest

hang lie hid?

10

Upon those boughs which shake against Or what strong hand can hold his swift

the cold, foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet

birds sang. O, none, unless this miracle have might,

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day 5 That in black ink my love may still shine

As after sunset fadeth in the west; bright.

Which by and by black night doth take LXVI

away, Tired with all these, for restful death I Death's second self, that seals up all in cry:

rest. As, to behold desert a beggar born, In me thou see'st the glowing of such And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,

fire And purest faith unhappily forsworn,

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 10 And gilded honor shamefully misplaced, 5 | As the death-bed whereon it must exAnd maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,

pire, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,

Consumed with that which it was nourAnd strength by limping sway disabled,

ished by. And art made tongue-tied by authority,

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill, 10 love more strong, And simple truth miscalled simplicity, To love that well which thou must leave And captive good attending captain ill.

ere long. Tired with all these, from these would I

XCVIII be gone,

From you have I been absent in the spring, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

When proud-pied? April dressed in all his

trim

Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, No longer mourn for me when I am dead That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell with him. Give warning to the world that I am fled Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet From this vile world, with vilest worms to I smell dwell:

Of different flowers in odor and in hue Nay, if you read this line, remember not 5 Could make me any summer's story tell, The hand that writ it; for I love you so Or from their proud lap pluck them where That I in your sweet thoughts would be I they grew; forgot

Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, If thinking on me then should make you | Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; woe.

They were but sweet, but figures of deO, if, I say, you look upon this verse

light,

II When I perhaps compounded am with Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. clay,

Yet seemed it winter still, and, you Do not so much as my poor name re away, hearse,

As with your shadow, I with these did But let your love even with my life decay, play.

2 gorgeously variegated.

LXXI

5

IO

I folly.

CVI

Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's When in the chronicle of wasted time

loss, I see descriptions of the fairest wights,

And let that pine to aggravate thy store;10 And beauty making beautiful old rhyme

Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights;

Within be fed, without be rich no more: Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds

on men, best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,

And Death once dead, there's no more I see their antique pen would have ex

dying then. pressed Even such a beauty as you master now. | ELIZABETHAN SONG WRITERS So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; 10

ANONYMOUS And, for they looked but with divining eyes,

BACK AND SIDE GO BARE, GO They had not skill enough your worth to

BARE sing: For we, which now behold these present

Back and side go bare, go bare, days,

Both hand and foot go cold; Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues

But, belly, God send thee good ale

enough, to praise.

Whether it be new or old.
CXVI
Let me not to the marriage of true minds | I cannot eat but little meat,

5 Admit impediments. Love is not love

My stomach is not good; Which alters when it alteration finds,

But sure I think that I can drink Or bends with the remover to remove:

With him that wears a hood. 0, no! it is an ever-fixed mark

Though I go bare, take ye no care, That looks on tempests and is never

I am nothing a-cold; shaken;

I stuff my skin so full within It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

Of jolly good ale and old. Whose worth's unknown, although his |

Back and side, etc. height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips

I love no roast but a nutbrown toast, and cheeks

And a crablaid in the fire; Within his bending sickle's compass come;

A little bread shall do me stead, Love alters not with his brief hours and

Much bread I not desire. weeks,

No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,

Can hurt me if it would,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,

I am so wrapt and throughly lapt
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side, etc.
CXLVI

And Tib my wife, that as her life
Poor soul, the center of my sinful earth, Loveth well good ale to seek,
Thrall to these rebel powers that thee Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
array,

The tears run down her cheek; Why dost thou pine within and suffer Then doth she trowl? to me the bowl dearth,

Even as a maltworm’ should, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? And saith, “Sweetheart, I have take my Why so large cost, having so short a lease,5 Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Of this jolly good ale and old.” 30 Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,

Back and side, etc. Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? | 'apple.

2 pass.

da tippler.

5

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

II

20

20

25

part

35

Now let them drink till they nod and I laugh not at another's loss; wink,

I grudge not at another's pain; Even as good fellows should do;

No worldly waves my mind can toss;
They shall not miss to have the bliss

My state at one doth still remain:
Good ale doth bring men to. 35 | I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, I loathe not life, nor dread my end.

Or have them lustily trowled,
God save the lives of them and their wives, Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Whether they be young or old.

Their wisdom by their rage of will; Back and side, go bare, go bare, 40

Their treasure is their only trust;
Both hand and foot go cold;

A cloaked craft their store of skill: 40 But, belly, God send thee good ale But all the pleasure that I find enough,

Is to maintain a quiet mind.
Whether it be new or old.

My wealth is health and perfect ease;

My conscience clear my chief defence; SIR EDWARD DYER (1650?-1607) I neither seek by bribes to please, 45

Nor by deceit to breed offence:
MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS Thus do I live; thus will I die;

Would all did so as well as I!
My mind to me a kingdom is,
Such present joys therein I find

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1564–1586)
That it excels all other bliss
That earth affords or grows by kind:

LOVE IS DEAD Though much I want which most would have,

5 | Ring out your bells, let mourning shows Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

be spread; No princely pomp, no wealthy store,

For Love is dead: No force to win the victory,

All Love is dead, infected No wily wit to salve a sore,

With plague of deep disdain: No shape to feed a loving eye; 10

Worth, as nought worth, rejected, 5

10 | To none of these I yield as thrall:

And Faith fair scorn doth gain. For why? My mind doth serve for all.

From so ungrateful fancy,

From such a female franzie,? I see how plenty (surfeits) oft,

From them that use men thus, And hasty climbers soon do fall;

Good Lord, deliver us!

10 I see that those which are aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all; Weep, neighbors, weep; do you not hear it They get with toil, they keep with fear:

said Such cares my mind could never bear.

That Love is dead? Content to live, this is my stay;

His death-bed, peacock's folly; I seek no more than may suffice; 20

His winding-sheet is shame; I press to bear no haughty sway;

His will, false-seeming holy; Look, what I lack my mind supplies:

His sole exec'tor, blame. Lo, thus I triumph like a king,

From so ungrateful fancy, Content with that my mind doth bring.

From such a female franzie,

From them that use men thus, Some have too much, yet still do crave;25 Good Lord, deliver us!

20 I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly read, have,

For Love is dead; And I am rich with little store:

Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; My mistress' marble heart; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live. 30 Which epitaph containeth, 25 1 emptied.

? frenzy.

15

« AnteriorContinuar »