As to a northern people (whom the sun
Uses just as the Romish church has done
Her prophane laity, and does assign
Bread only both to serve for bread and wine)
A rich Canary fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your letter gives,
Fraught with brisk racy verses; in which we
The soil from whence they came, taste, smell, and see:
Such is your present to us; for you must know,
Sir, that verse does not in this island grow,
No more than sack; one lately did not fear
(Without the Muses’ leave) to plant it here;
But it produc’d such base, rough, crabbed, hedge-
Rhymes, as ev’n set the hearers’ ears on edge:
Written by – – Esquire, the
Year of our Lord six hundred thirty-three.
Brave Jersey Muse! and he’s for this high style
Call’d to this day the Homer of the Isle.
Alas! to men here no words less hard be
To rhyme with, than * Mount Orgueil is to me;
Mount Orgueil! which, in scorn o’ th’ Muses’ law,
With no yoke-fellow word will deign to draw.
Stubborn Mount Orgueil! ‘t is a work to make it
Come into rhyme, more hard than ‘t were to take it.
Alas! to bring your tropes and figures here,
Strange as to bring camels and elephants were;
And metaphor is so unknown a thing,
‘T would need the preface of “God save the King.”
Yet this I’ll say, for th’ honour of the place,
That, by God’s extraordinary grace
(Which shows the people have judgment, if not wit)
The land is undefil’d with Clinches yet;
Which, in my poor opinion, I confess,
Is a most singular blessing, and no less
Than Ireland’s wanting spiders. And, so far
From th’ actual sin of bombast too they are,
(That other crying sin o’ th’ English Muse)
That even Satan himself can accuse
None here (no not so much as the divines)
For th’ motus primò primi to strong lines.
Well, since the soil then does not naturally bear
Verse, who (a devil) should import it here?
For that to me would seem as strange a thing
As who did first wild beasts into islands bring;
Unless you think that it might taken be
As Green did Gondibert, in a prize at sea:
But that’s a fortune falls not every day;
‘Tis true Green was made by it; for they say
The parliament did a noble bounty do,
And gave him the whole prize, their tenths and fifteens too.
A few random poems:
- Владимир Маяковский – Плакаты, 1928
- At Sea by Sara Teasdale
- Василий Жуковский – На первое отречение от престола Бонапарте
- Young mother by Sunil Sharma
- I threaded a garland with the memories of a spring… by Preeth Nambiar
- Villanelle: The Psychological Hour poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Changes by William Barnes
- Юлия Друнина – Слалом
- Relations by Sunil Sharma
- Creativity: The Top 10 Ways to Increase Your Creativity
- The Hon. Sec. poem – John Betjeman poems
- A Tombless Epitaph by Samuel Coleridge
- Владимир Высоцкий – Жизни после смерти нет
- One Ran Before by Yvor Winters
- Postip by Manolo Arriola
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 56. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 66. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 103. The Mountain Spite. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 99. ’Twas One of Those Dreams. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 91. Oh, Ye Dead!. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 85. Oh For the Swords of Former Time. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 58. Farewell! – But Whenever You Welcome the Hour. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 44. She Is Far From the Land. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 26. Erin, Oh Erin. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Mark Akenside. The Pleasures of Imagination. Марк Эйкенсайд.
- English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 22. Let Erin Remember the Days of Old. Томас Мур.
- English Poetry. Richard Hovey. The Old Pine. Ричард Хави.
- English Poetry. Richard Hovey. John Keats. Ричард Хави.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Haunted. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Going for the Cows. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Garden and Gardener. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Forevermore. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Finale. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Evasion. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- Copywriting Agency Foundation For Prosperous Business
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Abraham Cowley (1618 – 1667), the Royalist Poet.Poet and essayist Abraham Cowley was born in London, England, in 1618. He displayed early talent as a poet, publishing his first collection of poetry, Poetical Blossoms (1633), at the age of 15. Cowley studied at Cambridge University but was stripped of his Cambridge fellowship during the English Civil War and expelled for refusing to sign the Solemn League and Covenant of 1644. In turn, he accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria to France, where he spent 12 years in exile, serving as her secretary. During this time, Cowley completed The Mistress (1647). Arguably his most famous work, the collection exemplifies Cowley’s metaphysical style of love poetry. After the Restoration, Cowley returned to England, where he was reinstated as a Cambridge fellow and earned his MD before finally retiring to the English countryside. He is buried at Westminster Abbey alongside Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser. Cowley is a wonderful poet and an outstanding representative of the English baroque.