Poet and Saint! to thee alone are given
The two most sacred names of earth and heaven,
The hard and rarest union which can be
Next that of godhead with humanity.
Long did the Muses banish’d slaves abide,
And built vain pyramids to mortal pride;
Like Moses thou (though spells and charms withstand)
Hast brought them nobly home back to their Holy Land.
Ah wretched we, poets of earth! but thou
Wert living the same poet which thou’rt now.
Whilst angels sing to thee their airs divine,
And joy in an applause so great as thine,
Equal society with them to hold,
Thou need’st not make new songs, but say the old.
And they (kind spirits!) shall all rejoice to see
How little less than they exalted man may be.
Still the old heathen gods in numbers dwell,
The heavenliest thing on earth still keeps up Hell.
Nor have we yet quite purg’d the Christian land;
Still idols here like calves at Bethel stand.
And though Pan’s death long since all oracles broke,
Yet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo spoke:
Nay with the worst of heathen dotage we
(Vain men!) the monster Woman deify;
Find stars, and tie our fates there in a face,
And Paradise in them by whom we lost it, place.
What different faults corrupt our Muses thus
Wanton as girls, as old wives fabulous!
Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did contain
The boundless Godhead; she did well disdain
That her eternal verse employ’d should be
On a less subject than eternity;
And for a sacred mistress scorn’d to take
But her whom God himself scorn’d not his spouse to make.
It (in a kind) her miracle did do;
A fruitful mother was, and virgin too.
How well, blest swan, did fate contrive thy death;
And make thee render up thy tuneful breath
In thy great mistress’ arms! thou most divine
And richest offering of Loretto’s shrine!
Where like some holy sacrifice t’ expire
A fever burns thee, and Love lights the fire.
Angels (they say) brought the fam’d chapel there,
And bore the sacred load in triumph through the air.
‘Tis surer much they brought thee there, and they,
And thou, their charge, went singing all the way.
Pardon, my Mother Church, if I consent
That angels led him when from thee he went,
For even in error sure no danger is
When join’d with so much piety as his.
Ah, mighty God, with shame I speak’t, and grief,
Ah that our greatest faults were in belief!
And our weak reason were even weaker yet,
Rather than thus our wills too strong for it.
His faith perhaps in some nice tenents might
Be wrong; his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
And I myself a Catholic will be,
So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee.
Hail, bard triumphant! and some care bestow
On us, the poets militant below!
Oppos’d by our old enemy, adverse chance,
Attack’d by envy, and by ignorance,
Enchain’d by beauty, tortured by desires,
Expos’d by tyrant Love to savage beasts and fires.
Thou from low earth in nobler flames didst rise,
And like Elijah, mount alive the skies.
Elisha-like (but with a wish much less,
More fit thy greatness, and my littleness)
Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove
So humble to esteem, so good to love)
Not that thy spirit might on me doubled be,
I ask but half thy mighty spirit for me;
And when my Muse soars with so strong a wing,
‘Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing.
A few random poems:
- Владимир Домрин – Якутия
- A Pen Wrote The Funeral by Stevens Cadet
- Metamorphosis by Shaunna Harper
- Anthem For Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen
- Love Sonnet XLIX poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
- Владимир Высоцкий – Не отдавайте в физики детей
- Владимир Степанов – Синичка в электричке
- He is more than a hero by Sappho
- Harvest moon by Yosa Buson
- Владимир Маяковский – Вон самогон
- Владимир Маяковский – Даешь материальную базу
- Written In Very Early Youth by William Wordsworth
- Ок Мельникова – Профессия рок-звезда
- Chorus of Youths and Virgins poem – Alexander Pope
- Владимир Маяковский – В шикарном вагоне, в вагоне-салоне… (Главполитпросвет №315)
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
- Юлия Друнина – Сверстницам
- Юлия Друнина – Страна Юность
- Юлия Друнина – Старый Крым
- Юлия Друнина – Старая лента, обугленный лес
- Юлия Друнина – Стал холоден мой тёплый старый дом
- Юлия Друнина – Сочетание
- Юлия Друнина – Слалом
- Юлия Друнина – Шторм
- Юлия Друнина – Ржавчина
- Юлия Друнина – Русский вечер
- Юлия Жадовская – Заколдованное сердце
- Юлия Жадовская – Я все хочу расслушать
- Юлия Жадовская – Всё ты уносишь, нещадное время
- Юлия Жадовская – Возврат весны
- Юлия Жадовская – Лучший перл таится
- Юлия Жадовская – Говорят придет пора
- Юлия Жадовская – Да, я вижу
- Юлия Жадовская – Чем ярче шумный пир
- Юлия Жадовская – Ах, бабушкин сад
- Юнна Мориц – Зимнее
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.