Posts tagged ‘excerpt’

Saturday, 23 September 2017

Excerpt from “Academia; or The Humours of the University of Oxford” by Alicia Clarke D’Anvers

I intend to give you a Relation,
As prime as any is in the Nation:
The Name of th’ place is—let me see,
Call’d most an end the ‘Versity;
In which same place, as Story tells,
Liv’d once Nine handsome bonny Girls,
Highly in olden Time reputed,
Tho’ now so thawct’d and persecuted;
Schollars belike now can’t abide ‘um,
So that they’re fain to scout and hide ‘um,
Or’s sure as you’re alive they’d beat ‘um;
Out of the place they’d chose to seat ‘um
And they who won’t be seen to maul ‘um,
Revile, bespatter ‘um, or becall ‘um.
E’ne these sly Curs would Strumpets make ‘um,
When e’re they catch ‘um can, or take ‘um,
And pinch ‘um, till they’ve made ‘um sing ye,
The filthy’st stuff as one can bring ye,
The end of all such Rascals wooing,
Proves many a heedless ‘Girle’s undoing:
All these, and twenty more Abuses,
Are daily offer’d to the Muses.
You may perceive, I’me mightily
Disturb’d, they’re us’d so spitefully;
And must confess, where’s no denying,
That I can hardly hold from crying;
But that I mayn’t be seen to bellow,
Like ‘Girl forsaken by a Fellow,
Roar, throw my Snot about, and blubber,
Like School-Boys, or an am’rous Lubber,
I’le lay aside my Bowels yearning,
And talk of Schollars, and their Learning.

From: D’Anvers, Mrs. Alicia, Academia: or, The Humours of the University of Oxford. In Burlesque Verse, 1691, Randal Taylor: London, pp. 1-3.

Date: 1691

By: Alicia Clarke D’Anvers (1668-1725)

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Excerpt from “Hymnus Tabaci a Poem in Honour of Tabaco” by Raphael Thorius

The twice-born Liber seeing that his Foes
(Whom the parch’d desart Cliffs as yet inclose)
Had furious war begun, with hot alarms,
Doth call his Ivy-crowned troops to arms,
And the swift Lynxes to be yoak’d, commands;
The great Bassarides in order’d bands,
March with their valiant Leader to the Field;
And all his furious Priests obedience yield
To his behests, and follow: nor yet will
Silenus (though grown old) at home sit still.
The Drugdges and the Carriages go next,
And amongst them is led (an ample Text,
For Antiquaries to glosse on) the sage
Silenus saddle-Asse, grown lame with age;
The fearfull Indians here and there do fly;
And while they sought their flying enemy,
The weary Troops having too long in vain
Wandred about upon the sandy Plain,
Grow faint, and their provisions all are spent,
And Bacchus wants what he himself first lent
Unto us Men, the liquor of the Vine.
(Pity that he who gave, should e’re lack Wine!)
The old mans Vessel too being quite drawn dry,
Does in this Chariot overturned ly.
The Maenades and Satyrs, and the rout
Of untam’d youth (impatient of the drought)
Do wound the intrals of their Mother Earth,
Longing to see some gentle spring gush forth.
But all in vain, necessity makes them bold
To taste the salt drink; their own bladder hold
Unnatural draughts! but yet such is their woe,
That those unnatural draughts do fail them too.
So Tyrant-like, Thirst in their bodies reigns,
All moisture does forsake their dryed veins.
The sterner face of horrour now controls
The sinking Troops; Some breathe their toasted souls
Out of their reeking jaws; others are found
To own borrow supplies from their mutual wound;
Who finding too those Fountains to grow dry,
In a despair drink their last Cup and dy.

Note: Liber is another name for the god Bacchus (also known as Dionysus), traditionally considered the god of wine, winemaking, the grape harvest, fertility and madness. According to mythology, he was twice born as his mother, Semele, asked to see Zeus unmasked to prove that he was the father of her baby. Despite Zeus’s warning that this would kill her, she insisted and died when he revealed himself. Zeus then rescued the unborn Dionysus and sewed him into his thigh. Dionysus was later released/born from Zeus’s thigh.

Bacchus was associated with the lynx, a type of large hunting cat, although the exact species meant is unknown and it is sometimes referred to as a leopard or panther. The other creatures mentioned, such as bassarides, maenads and satyrs, are all followers of Bacchus. Silenus was Bacchus’ companion and tutor and is usually depicted as an old man riding an ass (or donkey).

From: Thorius, Raphael and Hausted, Peter, Hymnus tabaci a poem in honour of tabaco. Heroïcally composed by Raphael Thorius: made English by Peter Hausted Mr of Arts Camb. 2009, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, pp. 14-15.

Date: 1610 (original in Latin); 1651 (published translation in English)

By: Raphael Thorius (15??-1625)

Translated by: Peter Hausted (c1605-1644)

Thursday, 11 May 2017

Excerpt from “The pityfull histori[e] of two loving Italians, Gaulfrido and Barnardo” by John Drout

What fearefull nations did invade
Achilles woofull wight,
When hushing waves ten in a rowe
did overrunne him quight?
Did he not cut the waters salt
the foming seas apace,
When as the cruell nipping winde
was wholly in his face?
Were not companions his sore to ylde
uppon the raging flood?
But when that they arrivde to Troy,
then they did thinke it good
That they had laborde so in stormes,
for then in wether cléere
They canvas may their bisket harde,
and tipple p the béere,
Which lay all harde a sennights space,
(as Ovid he dooth tell:)
So may they tayre their bakon blacke,
and féede of it full well,
For Saylers they can féed apace
in weather faire or fogge,
And will not sticke (in hunger theirs)
to eate a barking dogge.
But now eche man they may reioyce
that Lady Ver is nere,
Now may they sée with glimmering eyes
once Phoebus to appere:
How Estas he with comely grace
full trimly dooth display,
And howe that Tellus floorisheth
through ayde of lustie May:
In pleasant moneth of this (my frends)
eache man dooth joy by kinde,
And every man dooth practise what
were best to please his minde.

Note: Although the author describes this poem as a translation, this is considered to be his own original work. It is thought he called this a work a translation to take advantage of a popular fad for Italian works at that time.

From: Drout, John, The pityfull histori[e] of two loving Italians, Gaulfrido and Barnardo le vayne, which arived in the countrey of Grece in the time of the noble Emperoure Vaspasian and translated out of Italian into Englishe meeter, 2003, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, pp. [unnumbered].

Date: 1570

By: John Drout (fl. 1570)

Sunday, 9 April 2017

Excerpt from “Democritus, his Dream. Or, The Contention Betweene the Elephant and The Flea” by Peter Woodhouse

The Elephant has been boasting that he is the greatest of all the animals and the Flea, overhearing him from within a dog’s ear, has challenged him to prove it. The Elephant has insisted on taking the matter to arbitration and gives his case first. This is part of the Flea’s response:

I see a Soldier’s service is forgot,
In time of peace the worlde regards us not.
But to proceed; he prates of fortitude,
And, that he’s valiant would faine conclude.
He counts strength valour, but judgeth wrong
Who saith the Oake hath valour: yet ’tis strong.
But he (he saith) hath many battailes fought,
I, but true valour never danger sought.
Rashnes, it selfe doth into perill thrust:
Thats onely valour where the quarrel’s just.
But when as unsought danger doth betide,
His prowesse then true valour will not hide.
For such as without all foresight are bolde
Foole hardye, and not valiant we holde.
Let this great warriour, I pray you shewe
For what just cause these warres he did pursue:
What, is he mute? then I the cause will tell,
For that his Lord to fight did him compell.
He saith that man his help doth ofte times crave,
It’s false, he doth commaund him as his slave.
No, do not thinke such judgements to delude,
Amongst some fooles vaunt of thy servitude.
Men use your service often to their cost,
For one day’s wonne through you, there are three lost.
Not warre alone, but other fearfull things,
(And chiefly such as death ofte with it brings)
Are fortitudes true objects: heerin lyes
His chiefest force these perrils to despise.
When man with pressing nayle seekes me to kill,
My guts about my heeles, I march on still.
And though in this great broyle I was neere slaine,
The daunger past, I boldely bite againe.
Was thy Syre’s valour (thinkst thou) like to this,
When as thou fought gainst proud Semiramis?
Hast thou no wound? may be thou wilt not start,
But I fight having lost my hinder parte;
Even halfe my body being tane away,
I flye not, but dare still maintaine the fray.
I dare adventure in each dangerous place,
And beard the boldest Ruffen to his face:
What dare I not? I knowe that I am free,
And doe enioy most perfect libertie.

From: Woodhouse, Peter and Grosart, Alexander B. (ed.), Democritus, his Dream. Or, The Contention Betweene the Elephant and The Flea. Of Peter Woodhouse (1605). Edited, with Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, 1877, Charles E. Simms: Manchester, pp. 24-26.

Date: 1605

By: Peter Woodhouse (fl. 1605)

Sunday, 2 April 2017

On the Fashionable Style of Poetry [Excerpt from “Boston. A Poem”] by Winthrop Sargent

Sonnets and riddles celebrate the trees,
And ballad-mongers charter every breeze.
Long odes to monkies, squirrel elegies,
Lines and acrostics on dead butterflies;
Endless effusions, some with Greek bedight,
And hymns harmonious, sweet, as infinite,
So freely flow, that poesy ere long
Must yield to numbers, and expire by song.
Elegiac lays such taste and truth combine,
The lap-dog lives and barks in every line;
Each rebus-maker takes the poet’s name,
And every rhymer is the heir of fame.

From: The Literary Magazine and American Register, Volume 1, 1803, John Conrad & Co: Philadelphia,: p. 191.

Date: 1803

By: Winthrop Sargent (1753-1820)

Monday, 27 February 2017

Excerpt from “The Proheme” of “The Ordinall of Alchimy” by Thomas Norton

For he that shulde all a common people teache,
He must for them use plaine and common speache;
Though that I write in plaine, and hoemely wise
No good-Man then shulde such writenge dispise.
All Masters that write of this Soleme werke
They made their Bokes to many Men full derke,
In Poyses, Parables, and in Metaphors alsoe,
Which to Shollers causeth peine and woe:
For in their practise whan they would it assay,
They leese their Costs, as men see aldaye.

From: Norton, Thomas; Ashmole, Elias and Holmyard, Eric John, The Ordinall of Alchimy, 1929, The Willliams & Wilkins Co: Baltimore, pp. 7-8.

Date: 1477

By: Thomas Norton (c1433-c1513)

Wednesday, 18 January 2017

Excerpt from “Vellekla” by Einarr Helgason/Skålaglam

Hakon the earl, so good and wise,
Let all the ancient temples rise; —
Thor’s temples raised with fostering hand
That had been ruined through the land.

His valiant champions, who were slain
On battle-fields across the main,
To Thor, the thunder-god, may tell
How for the gods all turns out well.

The hardy warrior now once more
Offers the sacrifice of gore;
The shield-bearer in Loke’s game
Invokes once more great Odin’s name.

The green earth gladly yields her store,
As she was wont in days of yore,
Since the brave breaker of the spears
The holy shrines again uprears.

The earl has conquered with strong hand
All that lies north of Viken land:
In battle storm, and iron rain
Hakon spreads wide his sword’s domain.


Date: c986 (original in Old Norse); ? (translation in English)

By: Einarr Helgason/Skålaglam (10th century)

Translated by: Rune Bjørnsen (19??- )

Thursday, 1 December 2016

Excerpt from “The Blessed Birth-Day Celebrated in Some Pious Meditations on the Angels Anthem. Luke 2. 14” by Charles Fitzgeoffrey

Behold a Mother, yet a Virgin still,
Whose Wombe not lust, but lively Faith did fill.
Before, and in, and after Birth a Mayd,
Of whom ‘mong all her sexe it may be said,
Sh’ enioy’d by bringing forth that heavenly Boy,
A virgins honour, with a Mothers joy:
Behold a field which nere by man was tild,
Wheat whence is made, the bread of life doth yield.
Thus ere the Heavens did showers on Earth distill,
A my’st her pregnant wombe with fruit did fill.

Thus Gedeons fleece was moist when all was drie,
And dry when all about it moist did lie.
Thus Moses bush sent forth a flaming fume,
And burning did not with the fire consume.
Thus did Faiths fire the Virgins heart inflame,
And yet abolisht not her Virgin-name:
Her swelling bellie nothing did abate
The entireness of her Maydenhead, state.
And thus on Aarons Rod ripe Almonds grew,
Nor set in earth nor moist’ned with the dew.
And thus from Maries Wombe a Plant proceeded,
Which neither setting, neither plantage needed.

Never till now two Phœnixes were seene
At once; For this the usuall course hath beene
(If all be true, that Naturallists have told,)
The young ones birth brings death unto the old:
One Phœnix here another forth did bring,
And yet her selfe is sav’d from perishing.
The mother there dies to produce an other,
But here the Child must die to save the Mother,
The young one must himselfe of life deprive,
Or else the Mother Phœnix cannot live.

If thou ô man doest aske how this may be,
The same that answer’d her must answer thee.
When of the Messenger she did demand
How this with possibility might stand.
That she should have a Man-child of her owne,
Who never Man in all her life had knowne.
All things are possible with God, whose skill
And power to worke are equall with his will.
Least we should doubt of this he first would doe
Things all as strange as this, and stranger too.

He who at first to frame a Man did need
Neither a Mothers wombe nor Fathers seed,
Could he not now forme in a Virgins Womb
A Child, who from no Fathers seed should come?
Could not the same who first made man of Earth
Procure a Mayden to bring forth a Birth?
He, who a Woman of a Man could frame
Without a Womans help, could not the same
A perfect Man now of a Woman make,
One who no man should for his Father take?

Let this suffice. The reason of the deed,
Doth from the doers will and powre proceed.
Consider who it is that wrought the fact,
Once know the Author, doubt not of the Act.
But for the Act the Author magnifie,
Joyning with th’. Angels in their melodie,
Glory to God on high, on Earth be Peace,
And let good will t’wards Christians never cease.

From: Fitzgeoffrey, Charles, The Blessed Birth-Day Celebrated in Some Pious Meditations on the Angels Anthem. Luke 2. 14. Also Holy Raptures, Etc. [In Verse.], 1634, John Lichfield: Oxford, pp. 11-12.

Date: 1634

By: Charles Fitzgeoffrey (1576-1638)

Tuesday, 11 October 2016

Excerpt from “Tom Tel-Troths Message, and His Pens Complaint” by John Lane

Time sits him downe to weepe in sorrowes sell,
And Truth bewailes mans present wickednes,
Both Time and Truth a dolefull tale doe tell,
Deploring for mans future wretchednes:
With teare-bedewed cheeks help, help therfore,
Sad tragicke muse to weepe, bewaile, deplore.

Mee thinks I see the ghost of Conscience,
Raisde from the darke grave of securitie,
Viewing the world, who once was banisht thence,
Her cheeks with teares made wet, with sighs made dry:
And this did aggravate her griefe the more,
To see the world much worse then twas before.

She wept, I saw her weepe, and wept to see
The salt teares trickling from her aged eyes,
Yea and my pen copartner needs would bee,
With black-inke teares, our teares to simpathize:
So long wee wept that all our eyes were drie,
And then our tongues began aloud to crie.

From: Lane, John, Tom Tel-Troths message, and his pens complaint A worke not vnpleasant to be read, nor vnprofitable to be followed, 2007, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, p. 8.

Date: 1600

By: John Lane (15??-16??)

Wednesday, 28 September 2016

Excerpt from “The Castell of Pleasure” by William Neville with rough rendering into almost modern English by flusteredduck

Phebus set on pryde and hault in corage
Spake these wordes of grete audacyte
Cupyde thou boy of yonge and tender aege
How mayst thou be so bolde to compare with me
These arowes becomes me as thou mayst clerely se
Wherwith I maye wounde bothe man and beste
And for that at all creatures be subgect to the
So moche is thy power lesse than myn at eche feste
Well well sayd cupyde it lyketh you to geste
This sayd he assended to the mount pernassus
On the hyght his armes shortly abrode he keste
And sayd I trust I shall this in haste dyscusse.

For a profe he toke forth of his arowy quyver
A golden darte with love ryght penytrable
Made sharpe at the poynt that it myght enter
With it he stroke phebus with a stroke ryght lamentable
It to resyste he was weyke and unable
The stroke of his power who can or may resyste
But he must obey and to love be agreeable
Cōstreyned by cupyde whiche may stryke whome he lyst
Another darte he toke soone in his fyste
Contrary to thoder ledyn blont and hevy
With this he stroke Phebus love or she wyste
So that the more he desyred the more she dyd deny

Her name was Daphnys whiche devoyde of love
By dame saunce mercy whiche made hym to complayne
Cupyde in sondry wyse his power dyde prove
On thone with love on thoder with dysdayne
Thone dyd fle thoder wolde optayne
Thone was gladde thoder was in wo
Thone was pencyfe and oppressed with payne
Thoder in joye cared not thoughe it were so
By fere and dysdayne she dyd hym overgo
Lyke to an hare she ranne in haste
He folowed lyke a grehounde desyre wrought hym wo
But all was in vayne his labour was but waste.

Excerpt from The Castle of Pleasure by William Neville

Phebus set on pride and arrogant in courage
Spake these words of great audacity
Cupid thou boy of young and tender age
How mayst thou be so bold to compare with me
These arrows becomes me as thou mayst clearly see
Wherewith I may wound both man and beast
And for that at all creatures be subject to thee
So much is thy power less than mine at each feast
Well well said Cupid it liketh you to jest
This said he ascended to the Mount Parnassus
On the height his arms shortly abroad he cast
And said I trust I shall this in haste discuss.

For a proof he took forth of his arrow quiver
A golden dart with love right penetrable
Made sharp at the point that it might enter
With it he struck Phebus with a stroke right lamentable
It to resist he was weak and unable
The stroke of his power who can or may resist
But he must obey and to love be agreeable
Constrained by Cupid which may strike whom he list
Another dart he took soon in his fist
Contrary to the other force blunt and heavy
With this he struck Phebus love or she knew
So that the more he desired the more she did deny.

Her name was Daphnys which devoid of love
By dame without mercy which made him to complain
Cupid in sundry wise his power did prove
On the one with love on the other with disdain
The one did flee the other would obtain
The one was glad the other was in woe
The one was pensive and oppressed with pain
The other in joy cared not though it were so
By fear and disdain she did him overgo
Like to a hare she ran in haste
He followed like a greyhound desire wrought him woe
But all was in vain his labour was but waste.

From: Neville, William, The castell of pleasure The conueyaunce of a dreme how Desyre went to the castell of pleasure, wherin was the gardyn of affeccyon inhabyted by Beaute to whome he amerously expressed his loue vpon ye whiche supplycacyon rose grete stryfe dysputacyon, and argument betwene Pyte and Dysdayne, 2005, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan & Oxford, pp. [unnumbered].

Date: ?1530

By: William Neville (1497-c1545)