The Penguin Book of English Verse
Page 29
As subject to times love, or to times hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gatherd.
No it was buylded far from accident,
It suffers not in smilinge pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralled discontent,
Whereto th’inviting time our fashion calls:
It feares not policy that Heriticke,
Which workes on leases of short numbred howers,
But all alone stands hugely pollitick,
That it nor growes with heat, nor drownes with showres.
To this I witnes call the foles of time,
Which die for goodnes, who have liv’d for crime.
129
Th’expence of Spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action, and till action, lust
Is perjurd, murdrous, blouddy full of blame,
Savage, extreame, rude, cruell, not to trust,
Injoyd no sooner but dispised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swollowed bayt,
On purpose layd to make the taker mad.
Made In pursut and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreame,
A blisse in proofe and prov’d a very wo,
Before a joy proposd behind a dreame,
All this the world well knowes yet none knowes well,
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
138
When my love sweares that she is made of truth,
I do beleeve her though I know she lyes,
That she might thinke me some untuterd youth,
Unlearned in the worlds false subtilties.
Thus vainely thinking that she thinkes me young,
Although she knowes my dayes are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue,
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest:
But wherefore sayes she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O loves best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have yeares told.
Therefore I lye with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lyes we flattered be.
(1599)
144
Two loves I have of comfort and dispaire,
Which like two spirits do sugiest me still,
The better angell is a man right faire:
The worser spirit a woman collour’d il.
To win me soone to hell my femall evill,
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a divel:
Wooing his purity with her fowle pride.
And whether that my angel be turn’d finde,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell,
But being both from me both to each friend,
I gesse one angel in an others hel.
Yet this shal I nere know but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
(1599)
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE from Cymbeline
GUIDERIUS
Pray you fetch him hither.
Thersites body is as good as Ajax,
When neyther are alive.
ARVIRAGUS
If you’ll go fetch him,
Wee’l say our Song the whil’st: Brother begin.
GUID.
Nay Cadwall, we must lay his head to th’East,
My father hath a reason for’t.
ARVI.
’Tis true.
GUID.
Come on then, and remove him.
ARVI.
So, begin.
Song.
GUID.
Feare no more the heate o’th’Sun,
Nor the furious Winters rages,
Thou thy worldly task hath don,
Home art gon and tane they wages.
Golden Lads, and Girles all must,
As Chimney-sweepers come to dust.
ARVI.
Fear no more the frowne o’th’Great,
Thou art past the Tirants stroake,
Care no more to cloath and eate,
To thee the Reede is as the Oake:
The Scepter, Learning, Physicke must,
All follow this and come to dust.
GUID.
Feare no more the Lightning flash.
ARVI.
Nor th’all-dreaded Thunder stone.
GUID.
Feare not Slander, Censure rash.
ARVI.
Thou hast finish’d Joy and mone.
BOTH
All Lovers young, all Lovers must,
Consigne to thee and come to dust.
GUID.
No Exorcisor harme thee,
ARVI.
Nor no witch-craft charme thee.
GUID.
Ghost unlaid forbeare thee.
ARVI.
Nothing ill come neare thee.
BOTH
Quiet consumation have,
And renowned be thy grave.
[Enter Belarius with the body of Cloten]
GUID.
We have done our obsequies: Come lay him downe.
(1623)
ANONYMOUS [Inscription in Osmington Church, Dorset]
Man’s Life
Man is a Glas: Life is
A water that’s weakly
walled about: sinne bring
es death: death breakes
the Glas: so runnes
the water out
finis.
ANONYMOUS [Inscription in St Mary Magdalene Church, Milk Street, London]
Grass of levity,
Span in brevity,
Flowers’ felicity,
Fire of misery,
Winds’ stability,
Is mortality.
1610
JOHN DAVIES OF HEREFORD The Author Loving These Homely Meats specially, viz.: cream, pancakes, buttered, pippin-pies (laugh, good people) and tobacco; writ to that worthy and virtuous gentlewoman, whom he calleth mistress, as followeth
If there were, oh! an Hellespont of cream
Between us, milk-white mistress, I would swim
To you, to show to both my love’s extreme,
Leander-like, – yea! dive from brim to brim.
But met I with a buttered pippin-pie
Floating upon ’t, that would I make my boat
To waft me to you without jeopardy,
Though sea-sick I might be while it did float.
Yet if a storm should rise, by night or day,
Of sugar-snows and hail of caraways,
Then, if I found a pancake in my way,
It like a plank should bring me to your kays;
Which having found, if they tobacco kept,
The smoke should dry me well before I slept.
1611
from The Authorized Version of the Bible
2 Samuel 1: 19–27 David lamenteth the death of Jonathan
The beauty of Israel is slaine upon thy high places: how are the mightie fallen!
Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streetes of Askelon: lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoyce, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph.
Yee mountaines of Gilboa, let there bee no dewe, neither let there be raine upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the mightie is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though hee had not beene annointed with oile.
From the blood of the slaine, from the fat of the mightie, the bow of Ionathan turned not backe, and the sword of Saul returned not emptie.
Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided: they were swifter then Eagles, they were stronger then Lions.
Yee daughters of Israel, weepe over Saul, who clothed you in scarlet, with other delights, who put on ornaments of golde upon your apparell.
How are the mightie fallen in the m
idst of the battell! O Jonathan, thou wast slaine in thine high places.
I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan, very pleasant hast thou beene unto mee: thy love to mee was wonderfull, passing the love of women.
How are the mightie fallen, and the weapons of warre perished!
Job 3: 3–26 Job curseth the day, and services of his birth
Let the day perish, wherein I was borne, and the night in which it was said, There is a man-childe conceived.
Let that day bee darkenesse, let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon it.
Let darkenes and the shadowe of death staine it, let a cloud dwell upon it, let the blacknes of the day terrifie it.
As for that night, let darkenesse seaze upon it, let it not be joyned unto the dayes of the yeere, let it not come into the number of the moneths.
Loe, let that night be solitarie, let no joyfull voice come therein.
Let them curse it that curse the day, who are ready to raise up their mourning.
Let the starres of the twilight thereof be darke, let it looke for light, but have none, neither let it see the dawning of the day:
Because it shut not up the doores of my mothers wombe, nor hid sorrowe from mine eyes.
Why died I not from the wombe? why did I not give up the ghost when I came out of the bellie?
Why did the knees prevent mee? or why the breasts, that I should sucke?
For now should I have lien still and beene quiet, I should have slept; then had I bene at rest,
With Kings and counsellers of the earth, which built desolate places for themselves,
Or with Princes that had golde, who filled their houses with silver:
Or as an hidden untimely birth, I had not bene; as infants which never saw light.
There the wicked cease from troubling: and there the wearie be at rest.
There the prisoners rest together, they heare not the voice of the oppressour.
The small and great are there, and the servant is free from his master.
Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soule?
Which long for death, but it commeth not, and dig for it more then for hid treasures:
Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad when they can finde the grave?
Why is light given to a man, whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?
For my sighing commeth before I eate, and my roarings are powred out like the waters.
For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of, is come unto me.
I was not in safetie, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet: yet trouble came.
Ecclesiastes 12: 1–8 The Creator is to be remembred in due time
Remember now thy Creatour in the days of thy youth, while the evil daies come not, nor the yeeres drawe nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them:
While the Sunne, or the light, or the moone, or the starres be not darkened, nor the cloudes returne after the raine:
In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bowe themselves, and the grinders cease, because they are fewe, and those that looke out of the windowes be darkened:
And the doores shal be shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of musicke shall be brought low.
Also when they shalbe afraid of that which is high, and feares shall bee in the way, and the Almond tree shall flourish, and the grashopper shall be a burden, and desire shall faile: because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners goe about the streets:
Or ever the silver corde be loosed, or the golden bowle be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountaine, or the wheele broken at the cisterne.
Then shall the dust returne to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall returne unto God who gave it.
Vanitie of vanities (saith the preacher) all is vanitie.
GEORGE CHAPMAN from The Iliads of Homer
from The Third Booke [Helen and the Elders on the Ramparts]
And as in well-growne woods, on trees, cold spinie Grashoppers
Sit chirping and send voices out that scarce can pierce our eares
For softnesse and their weake faint sounds; so (talking on the towre)
These Seniors of the people sate, who, when they saw the powre
Of beautie in the Queene ascend, even those cold-spirited Peeres,
Those wise and almost witherd men, found this heate in their yeares
That they were forc’t (though whispering) to say: ‘What man can blame
The Greekes and Troyans to endure, for so admir’d a Dame,
So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine
Lookes like the Goddesses’. And yet (though never so divine)
Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforced prise
And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies,
Labor and ruine, let her go: the profit of our land
Must passe the beautie.’ Thus, though these could beare so fit a hand
On their affections, yet when all their gravest powers were usde
They could not chuse but welcome her, and rather they accusde
The gods than beautie. For thus spake the most fam’d King of Troy:
‘Come, loved daughter, sit by me, and take the worthy joy
Of thy first husband’s sight, old friends’ and Princes’ neare allyed,
And name me some of these brave Greekes, so manly beautified.
Come: do not thinke I lay the warres, endur’d by us, on thee:
The gods have sent them, and the teares in which they swumme to me.’
from The Twelfth Booke [Sarpedon’s Speech to Glaucus]
And as in winter time when Jove his cold-sharpe javelines throwes
Amongst us mortals and is mov’d to white earth with his snowes
(The winds asleepe) he freely poures, till highest Prominents,
Hill tops, low meddowes and the fields that crowne with most contents
The toiles of men, sea ports and shores are hid, and everie place
But floods (that snowe’s faire tender flakes, as their owne brood, embrace):
So both sides coverd earth with stones, so both for life contend
To shew their sharpnesse. Through the wall, uprore stood up on end.
Nor had great Hector and his friends the rampire overrun
If heaven’s great Counsellour, high Jove, had not inflam’d his sonne
Sarpedon (like the forrest’s king when he on Oxen flies)
Against the Grecians: his round targe he to his arme applies,
Brasse-leav’d without and all within thicke Oxe-hides quilted hard,
The verge naild round with rods of gold; and with two darts prepard
He leades his people. As ye see a mountaine Lion fare,