"Sonety, jaká slast..."
Ivan Blatný

Lord Brook Fulke Greville - sonety č. 2 a 87 z cyklu "Caelica" tohoto alžbětínského básníka

22. června 2007 v 11:43 | Lord Brook Fulke Greville |  Sonetové cykly
Sonnet 2

Faire dog, which so my heart dost teare asunder,
That my liue's-blood my bowels ouerfloweth :
Alas, what wicked rage conceal'st thou vnder
These sweet enticing ioyes thy forehead showeth :
Me, whom the light-wing'd god of long hath chased,
Thou hast attain'd : thou gau'st that fatall wound
Which my soule's peacefull innocence hath rased,
And Reason to her seruant Humour bound.

Kill therefore in the end, and end my anguish,
Give me my death; me thinks euen Time vpbraideth
A fulness of the woes, wherein I languish:
Or if thou wilt I liue, then Pittie pleadeth
Help out of thee, since Nature hath reuealed,
That with thy tongue thy bytings may be healed.

Sonnet 87

The earth, with thunder torn, with fire blasted,
With waters drowned, with windy palsy shaken,
Cannot for this with heaven be distasted,
Since thunder, rain, and winds from earth are taken.
Man, torn with love, with inward furies blasted,
Drowned with despair, with fleshly lustings shaken,
Cannot for this with heaven be distasted:
Love, fury, lustings out of man are taken.
Then man, endure thyself, those clouds will vanish.
Life is a top which whipping Sorrow driveth,
Wisdom must bear what our flesh cannot banish,
The humble lead, the stubborn bootless striveth:
Or, man, forsake thyself, to heaven turn thee,
Her flames enlighten nature, never burn thee.

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