Posts tagged ‘1618’

Tuesday, 6 February 2018

Pandora: Lines 102-175 from “Works and Days” by Hesiod

Thus spake and laugh’d of Gods and Men the Sire,
And straight enjoin’d the famous God of Fire
To mingle, instantly, with water earth;
The voice and vigour of a human birth
Imposing in it, and so fair a face
As match’d th’ Immortal Goddesses in grace,
Her form presenting a most lovely maid.
Then on Minerva his command he laid
To make her work, and wield the witty loom.
And, for her beauty, such as might become
The golden Venus, he commanded her
Upon her brows and countenance to confer
Her own bewitchings; stuffing all her breast
With wild desires incapable of rest,
And cares that feed to all satiety
All human lineaments. The crafty Spy
And Messenger of Godheads, Mercury,
He charg’d t’ inform her with a dogged mind,
And thievish manners. All as he design’d
Was put in act. A creature straight had frame
Like to a virgin, mild and full of shame;
Which Jove’s suggestion made the Both-foot-lame
Form so deceitfully, and all of earth
To forge the living matter of her birth.
Grey-eyed Minerva put her girdle on,
And show’d how loose parts, well composed, shone.
The deified Graces, and the Dame that sets
Sweet words in chief form, golden carquenets
Embrac’d her neck withal. The fair-hair’d Hours
Her gracious temples crown’ d with fresh spring-flowers.
But of all these, employ’ d in several place,
Pallas gave order the impulsive grace.
Her bosom Hermes, the great God of spies,
With subtle fashions fill’d, fair words, and lies;
Jove prompting still. But all the voice she us’d
The vocal herald of the Gods infus’d,
And call’d her name Pandora, since on her
The Gods did all their several gifts confer;
Who made her such, in every moving strain,
To he the bane of curious-minded men.

Her harmful and inevitable frame
At all parts perfect, Jove dismiss’d the Dame
To Epimetheus, in his herald’s guide,
With all the Gods’ plagues in a box beside.
Nor Epimetheus kept one word in store
Of what Prometheus had advised before,
Which was: That Jove should fasten on his hand
No gift at all, but he his wile withstand,
And back return it, lest with instant ill
To mortal men he all the world did fill.
But he first took the gift, and after griev’d.
For first the families of mortals:
Without and free from ill: harsh labour then,
Nor sickness, hasting timeless age on men,
Their hard and wretched tasks impos’d on them
For manv years; but now a violent stream
Of all afflictions in an instant came,
And quench’d life’s light that shin’d before in flame.
For when the woman the unwieldy lid
Had once discover’d, all the miseries hid
In that curs’d cabinet dispers’d and flew
About the world; joys pined, and sorrows grew.
Hope only rested in the box’s brim,
And took not wing from thence. Jove prompted him
That ow’d the cabinet to clap it close
Before she parted; but unnumber’d woes
Besides encount’red men in all their ways;
Full were all shores of them, and full all seas.
Diseases, day and night, with natural wings
And silent entries stole on men their stings;
The great in counsels, Jove, their voices reft,
That not the truest might avoid their theft,
Nor any ‘scape the ill, in any kind,
Resolv’d at first in his almighty mind.

From: Chapman, George (transl.) and Hooper, Richard (ed.), Homer’s Batrachomyomachia, Hymns and Epigrams. Hesiod’s Works and Days. Musæus’ Hero and Leander. Juvenal’s Fifth Satire, 1858, John Russell Smith: London, pp. 153-157.

Date: c700 BCE (original in Greek); 1618 (translation in English)

By: Hesiod (c750 BCE-c650 BCE)

Translated by: George Chapman (c1559-1634)

Thursday, 11 January 2018

Verses 5-7 from “Britaine’s Glorie, or An Allegoricall Dreame” by Robert Carliell

The Angell then transfer’d me to a Land,
Where huge deformed ugly Giants breed,
Which spoil’d and burnt good corne which there did stand,
And set Tabacco that foule stinking weede,
One bad me taste, but the Angell bad me leave,
For that would me quite of my life bereave.

For this is not a man as you suppose,
But a black fiend which humane shape assumes,
That takes Tabacco thus through mouth and nose,
And brings from Hell these devillish perfumes,
I started back seeing it was a Devill,
And praied good Angell, save me from this evill.

Be not afraid quoth he, thou shalt that see
Before that we depart this wicked Land,
Which never eie beheld: And then to me
Appear’d damn’d creatures in the flames to stand,
These are Tabacconists said he, that for this turne,
Did whilst they liv’d, before-hand learne to burne.

From: Carliell, Robert, Britaines glorie, or An allegoricall dreame: with the exposition thereof. Containing [brace]the heathens infidelitie, the Turkes blasphemie, the popes hypocrisie, Amsterdams varietie, the Church of Englands veritie [brace] in religion. And in our Church of England, [brace] the kings excellency. His issues integritie. The nobles and gentries constancie. The councels and iudges fidelitie. The preachers puritie. The bishops sinceritie. / Conceiued and written by Robert Carlyle gent. for the loue and honour of his king and country, 2014, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, pp. [unnumbered].

Date: 1618

By: Robert Carliell (15??-1622)

Monday, 19 September 2016

The Argument by Thomas Goffe

A Suppos’d Victory by AMURATH
Obtain’d in Greece, where many captives take,
One among the rest, IRENE, conquers him;
For taken with her love, he sounds retreat.
Eternally from Warre: but after, mov’d
With murmur of his Nobles, in her Bed
Before his Councels face, strikes off her head.
Then ruinating former bloudy broyles,
He straight ore’ comes all Christian Provinces,
Invades the Confines of his Sonne in Law,
Fires Caramania, and makes Aladin
With’s Wife and Children suppliant for their lives;
At length appointed his greatest Field to fight,
Upon Cassanae‘s Plaines, where having got
A wondrous Conquest ‘gainst the Christians,
Comes the next morne to overview the dead,
‘Mongst whom a Christian Captaine Cobelitz,
Lying wounded there, at sight of Amurath,
Rising and staggering towards him, desperately
With a short dagger wounds him to the heart,
And then immediately the Christian dyes.
The Turke expiring, Bajazet his Heyre
Strangles his younger brother: Thus still springs
The Tragick sport which Fortune makes with Kings.

From: Goffe, Thomas, The couragious Turke, or, Amurath the First A tragedie. Written by Thomas Goffe Master of Arts, and student of Christ-Church in Oxford, and acted by the students of the same house, 2003, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan & Oxford,. p. [unnumbered].

Date: 1618

By: Thomas Goffe (1591-1629)

Saturday, 21 February 2015

Matin Song by Nathaniel Field

Rise, Lady Mistress! rise!
The night hath tedious been;
No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes,
Nor slumbers made me sin.
Is not she a saint, then, say!
Thought of whom keeps sin away?

Rise, madam! rise, and give me light,
Whom darkness still will cover,
And ignorance, more dark than night,
Till thou smile on thy lover.
All want day till thy beauty rise,
For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes.

From: Briscoe, J. Potter, Tudor and Stuart Love Songs, 1902, E.P. Dutton and Co: New York, p. 89.

Date: 1618

By: Nathaniel Field (1581-c1633)