HOPE

 

For human nature HOPE remains alone

Of all the deities; the rest are flown.

Faith is departed; Truth and Honor dead;

And all the Graces too, my friends, are fled.

The scanty specimens of living worth,

Dwindling to nothing, and extinct on earth.

Yet whilst I live and view the light of heaven,

Since HOPE remains and never has been driven

From the distracted world – the single scope

Of my devotion is to worship HOPE.

When hecatombs are slain, and alters burn,

When all the deities adored in turn,

Let HOPE be present; and with HOPE, my friend,

Let every sacrifice commence and end.

Yes, Insolence, Injustice, every crime,

Rapine and Wrong, may prosper for a time;

Yet shall they travel on to swift decay,

Who tread the crooked path and hollow way.

 

(THEOGNIS)

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SECRET LOVE

 

I feed a flame within, which so torments me,

That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:

‘Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,

That I had rather die than once remove it.

 

Yet he for whom I grieve shall never know it;

My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it:

Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,

But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

 

Thus to prevent my love from being cruel,

My heart’s the sacrifice, as it is the fuel:

And while I suffer this, to give him quite,

My faith rewards my love, tho’ he deny it.

 

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;

Where I conceal my love, no frown can fright me:

To be more happy, I dare not aspire;

Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.

 

(JOHN DRYDEN)

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A POISON TREE

 

I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

 

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

 

And it grew both day and night

‘Till it bore an apple bright;

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine,

 

And into my garden stole

When the night had veiled the pole:

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree

 

(WILLIAM BLAKE)

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A DREAM OF VENUS

 

I dreamt I saw great Venus by me stand,

Leading a nodding infant by the hand;

And that she said to me familiarly---

"Take LOVE, and teach him how to play to me."

She vanisht then. And I, poor fool, must turn

To teach the boy, as if he wished to learn.

I taught him all the pastoral songs I knew

And used to sing; and I informed him, too,

How Pan found out the pipe, Pallas the flute,

Phoebus the lyre, and Mercury the lute.

But not a jot for all my words cared he,

But lo! fell singing his love-songs to me;

And told me of the loves of gods and men,

And of his mother's doings; and so then

I forgot all I taught him for my part,

But what he taught me I learnt all by heart.

 

(BION)

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INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY

 

There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,

The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Appareled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.

It is not now as it hath been of yore;-

Turn wheresoe’er I may,

By night or day,

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

 

(FROM: RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD)

(WILLIAM WORDSWORTH)

 

 

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THE COMBAT

 

Now will I a lover be;

Love himself commanded me.

Full at first of stubborn pride,

To submit my soul denied;

He his quiver takes and bow,

Bids defiance, forth I go,

Arm'd with spear and shield, we meet;

On he charges, I retreat:

Till perceiving in the fight

He had wasted every flight,

Into me, with fury hot,

Like a dart himself he shot,

And my cold heart melts; my shield

Useless, no defense could yield;

For what boots an outward screen

When, alas, the fight's within!

 

(ANACREON AND ANACREONTICS)

 

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PROCRASTINATION

 

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;

In what far country does this morrow lie,

That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?

Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?

'Tis so far fetched, this morrow, that I fear

'Twill be both very old and dear.

To-morrow I will live, the fool does say;

To-day itself's too late: the wise lived yesterday.

(Marcus Velerious Martialis)

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HE IS PAST ALL HELP

 

For a thing done, repentance is no good,

Nor to say after, Thus would I have done:

In life, what's left behind is vainly rued;

So let a man get used his heart to shun:

For on his legs he hardly may be stood

Again, if once his fall be well begun.

But to show wisdom's what I never could;

So where I itch I scratch now, and all's one.

I'm down, and cannot rise in any way;

For not a creature of my nearest kin

Would hold me out a hand that I could reach.

I pray you do not mock at what I say;

For so my love's good grace may I not win

If ever sonnet held so true a speech!

 

(Cecco Angiolieri, da Siena)

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SONNET

 

When I was marked for suffering, Love forswore

All knowledge of my doom; or else at ease

Love grows a cruel tyrant, hard to please;

Or else a chastisement exceeding sore

A little sin hath brought me. Hush! No more!

Love is a god! All things he knows and sees,

And gods are bland and mild! Who then decrees

The dreadful woe I bear and yet adore?

 

If I should say, O Chloe, that 'twas thou,

I should speak falsely since, being wholly good

Like Heaven itself, from thee no ill can come.

There is no hope; I must die shortly now,

Not knowing why, since, sure, no witch hath brewed

The drug that might avert my martyrdom.

 

(Miguel de Cervantes)

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FROM "LIFE IS A DREAM"

We live, while we see the sun,

Where life and dreams are as one;

And living has taught me this,

Man dreams the life that is his,

Until his living is done.

The king dreams he is king, and he lives

In the deceit of a king,

Commanding and governing;

And all the praise he receives

Is written in wind, and leaves

A little dust on the way

When death ends all with a breath.

Where then is the gain of a throne,

That shall perish and not be known

In the other dream that is death?

Dreams the rich man of riches and fears,

The fears that his riches breed;

The poor man dreams of his need,

And all his sorrows and tears;

Dreams he that prospers with years

Dreams he that feigns and foregoes,

Dreams he that rails on his foes;

And in all the world, I see,

Man dreams whatever he be,

And his own dream no man knows.

And I too dream and behold,

I dream and I am bound with chains,

And I dreamed that these present pains

Were fortunate ways of old.

What is life? a tale that is told;

What is life? a frenzy extreme,

A shadow of things that seem;

And the greatest good is but small,

That all life is a dream to all,

And that dreams themselves are a dream.

 

(Pedro Calderon de la Barca)

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SONNET XXIX

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,

desiring this man's art and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almeost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

 

(William Shakespeare)

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