Elizabethan Poetry

An Anthology

Bob Blaisdell

• Verlag: Dover Publications
• Jahr: 2012
• ISBN:
  9780486113630
• Thema: Literature
• Thema: Poetry

The relative peace and prosperity of the Elizabethan age (1558–1603) fostered the growth of one of the most fruitful eras in literary history. Lyric poetry, prose, and drama flourished in sixteenth-century England in works that blended medieval traditions with Renaissance optimism.
This anthology celebrates the wit and imaginative creativity of the Elizabethan poets with a generous selection of their graceful and sophisticated verse. Highlights include sonnets from Astrophel and Stella, written by Sir Philip Sidney — a scholar, poet, critic, courtier, diplomat, soldier, and ideal English Renaissance man; poems by Edmund Spenser, whose works combined romance with allegory, adventure, and morality; and sonnets by William Shakespeare, whose towering poetic genius transcends the ages. Other celebrated contributors include John Donne (`Go, and catch a fallen star`), Ben Jonson (`Drink to me only with thine eyes`), and Christopher Marlowe (`The Passionate Shepherd to His Love`). The poetry of lesser-known figures such as Michael Drayton, Samuel Daniel, and Fulke Greville appears here, along with verses by individuals better known in other fields — Francis Bacon, Queen Elizabeth I, and Walter Raleigh — whose poems offer valuable insights into the spirit of the age.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564–1616)

Born to a successful tradesman, English literature’s most famous author probably didn’t have any university training. By 1592 he was in London as an actor. The dating of his poems and most of his plays is difficult or impossible, but the 154 sonnets seem to have been begun in 1594. They were first published in 1609, though not with Shakespeare’s authorization, or necessarily in his own arrangement. In their astonishing originality, facility, and lyrical beauty, the sonnets are among the glories of the language.

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whoo!
Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whoo!
Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo’
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, &c.

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man’s estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
But that ’s all one, our play is done,
And we’ll strive to please you every day.

Blow, blow, thou winter-wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude!
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! unto the green holly,
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly
Then heigh, ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot!
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember’d not.
Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! unto the green holly,
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly
Then heigh, ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Under the green-wood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird’s throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live i’ the sun;
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleas’d with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

Take, O take those lips away,
That so sweetly are forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
Bring again,
Seals of love, but seal’d in vain,
Seal’d in vain!

Fear no more the heat o’ th’ sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o’ th’ great,
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat,
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor th’ all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash,
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
From it consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave!

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls, that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them—ding-dong, bell.

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest,
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair, whose un-ear’d womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond, ...