Poems by Wyatt:


Poems by Sir Thomas Wyatt


 


 


WHOSO list to hunt ? I know where is an     
        hind !
   But as for me, alas !  I may no more,
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore ;
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer ; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow ; I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt
As well as I, may spend his time in vain !
And graven with diamonds in letters plain,
There is written her fair neck round about ;
    ' Noli me tangere ; for Cæsar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.'


 


FAREWELL, Love, and all thy laws for
        ever ;
   Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.
Senec, and Plato, call me from thy lore,
To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour ;
In blind error when I did persever,
Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore,
Taught me in trifles that I set no store ;
But scaped forth thence, since, liberty is lever1
Therefore, farewell ! go trouble younger hearts,
And in me claim no more authority :
With idle youth go use thy property,2
And thereon spend thy many brittle darts :
    For, hitherto though I have lost my time,
    Me list no longer rotten boughs to clime.


 


 


THE flaming sighs that boil within my breast,
    Sometime break forth, and they can well
        declare
The heart's unrest, and how that it doth fare,
The pain thereof, the grief, and all the rest.
The water'd eyen from whence the tears do fall,
Do feel some force, or else they would be dry ;
The wasted flesh of colour dead can try,
And sometime tell what sweetness is in gall :
And he that lust to see, and to discern
How care can force within a wearied mind,
Come he to me, I am that place assign'd :
But for all this, no force, it doth no harm ;
    The wound, alas, hap in some other place,
    From whence no tool away the scar can raze.
But you, that of such like have had your part,
Can best be judge.  Wherefore, my friend so dear,
I thought it good my state should now appear
To you, and that there is no great desert.
And whereas you, in weighty matters great,
Of fortune saw the shadow that you know,
For trifling things I now am stricken so,
That though I feel my heart doth wound and beat,
I sit alone, save on the second day
My fever comes, with whom I spend my time
In burning heat, while that she list assign.
And who hath health and liberty alway,
    Let him thank God, and let him not provoke,
    To have the like of this my painful stroke.


 


 

 

BEHOLD, Love, thy power how she des-
         piseth ;
  My grievous pain how little she regardeth :
The solemn oath, whereof she takes no cure,
Broken she hath, and yet, she bideth sure,
Right at her ease, and little thee she dreadeth :
    Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sitteth :
To thee disdainful, all her life she leadeth ;
To me spiteful, without just cause or measure :
Behold, Love, how proudly she triumpheth.
    I am in hold, but if thee pity moveth,
Go, bend thy bow, that stony hearts breaketh,
And with some stroke revenge the displeasure
Of thee, and him that sorrow doth endure,
And, as his lord, thee lowly here entreateth.
                                       Behold, Love !


 


THEY flee from me, that sometime did me
        seek,
  With naked foot stalking within my
        chamber :
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
    That now are wild, and do not once remember,
    That sometime they have put themselves in danger
To take bread at my hand ; and now they range
Busily seeking in continual change.
    Thanked be Fortune, it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better ; but once especial,
In thin array, after a pleasant guise,
    When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall,
    And she me caught in her arms long and small,
And therewithal sweetly did me kiss,
And softly said, ' Dear heart, how like you this ?'
    It was no dream ; for I lay broad awaking :
But all is turn'd now through my gentleness,
Into a bitter fashion of forsaking ;
    And I have leave to go of her goodness ;
    And she also to use new fangleness.
But since that I unkindly so am served :
How like you this, what hath she now deserved ?


A few Lyrics from Dante:


Per Una Ghirlandetta

Dante Alighieri

Because of a garland

I once saw, every flower

Will make me sigh.

I saw you, lady, wearing

A garland of sweet flowers

And above, I saw flying,

All mild, an angel of love

In his melodious song

Declaring, “who sees me

Will praise my Lord.”

If I am where I hear

My beautiful, my Fioretta singing,

I shall say my lady

Wears my sighs upon her head.

But my lady will come forth,

To increase desire

Crowned by love.


My young verses,

Having made of flowers a ballata,

Have put on for its grace

A garment given to another; so I pray you,

Honor him

Who sings this song.


II


"Amore e il cor gentil"

Love and the noble heart are one thing,

As the wise one declares in his poem,

and one can be without the other only

as the rational soul can live without reason.


When turned toward love, nature creates them both

Love is the lord and the heart is his mansion

Wherein he abides and sleeps

Sometimes briefly; sometimes a long season.


Then beauty comes forth in a lady who is wise,

So pleasing to the eyes that in the heart

A desire is born for that beautiful thing;


 And it lasts so long, sometimes, in the heart

It makes a spirit of love awaken,

Just as a women’s heart is aroused by a worthy man.


 III


"Io Sono Stato"


I have been together with Love

Since the ninth circling of the sun,

and know how he spurs and bridles,

and how all in his power laugh and groan.


Whoever calls up reason or virtue against him

Acts like one who shouts against a storm

Thinking he can end the conflict

Of the vapors, up where it thunders.


Thus in the circle of his arena

Free will was never free

So reason bends its bow in vain.


Love can always spur again the flanks

So that whatever pleasure calls us now

We must attend, as our old love is exhausted.


 Poems by John Skelton:


Poems by John Skelton


1460(?)- 1529


 


WITH lullay, lullay, like a child,
Thou sleepèst too long, thou art beguiled!


"My darling dear, my daisy flower,
Let me," quoth he, "lie in your lap."
"Lie still," quoth she, "my paramour,
Lie still hardily1, and take a nap."
His head was heavy, such was his hap,
All drowsy, dreaming, drowned in sleep,
That of his love he took no keep,
      With hey, lullay, etc.


With ba, ba, ba, and bas, bas, bas!
She cherished him both cheek and chin
That he wist never where he was;
He had forgotten all deadly sin!
He wanted wit her love to win:
He trusted her payment and lost all his pay;
She left him sleeping and stale2 away,
      With hey, lullay, etc.


The rivers rough, the waters wan;
She sparèd not to wet her feet.
She waded over, she found a man
That halsèd3 her heartily and kissed her sweet;
Thus after her cold she caught a heat.
"My lief,4" she said, "rowteth5 in his bed;
Iwys6 he hath an heavy head,"
      With hey, lullay, etc.


What dreamest thou, drunkard, drowsy pate?
Thy lust and liking is from thee gone;
Thou blinkard blowboll7, thou wakèst too late;
Behold thou liest, luggard, alone!
Well may thou sigh, well may thou groan,
To deal with her so cowardly.
Ywis, pole-hatchet,8 she blearèd thine eye!


 


Link to Skelton’s “Mannerly Margery” with some analysis


https://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/apr/23/poem-week-john-skelton


 


“Upon A Dead Man’s Head”


YOUR ugly token
My mind hath broken
From worldly lust;
For I have discussed
We are but dust,
And die we must.
    It is general
To be mortal:
I have well espied
No man may him hide
From Death hollow-eyed
With sinews witherèd,
With bonès shatterèd,
With his worm-eaten maw,
And his ghastly jaw
Gasping aside,
Naked of hide,
Neither flesh nor fell.
    Then, by my counsel,
Look that ye spell
Well this gospel:
For whereso we dwell
Death will us quell
And with us mell.


For all our pampered paunches,
There may no fraunchis,
Nor worldly bliss ,
Redeem us from this:
Our days be dated
To be checkmated
With draughtès of death,
Stopping our breath;
Our eyen sinking,
Our bodies stinking,
Our gummès grinning,
Our soulès brinning.
To whom, then, shall we sue,
For to have rescue,
But to sweet Jesu,
On us then for to rue?


   O goodly Child
Of Mary mild,
Then be our shield !
That we be not exiled
To the dyne dale
Of bottomless bale,
Nor to the lake
Of fiendès blake.
    But grant us grace
To see thy face,
And to purchase
Thine heavenly place,
And thy palace,
Full of solace,
Above the sky,
That is so high;
Eternally
To behold and see
The Trinity!
    Amen.
Mirres vous y.*





* Mirres vous y. Fr. trans. "See yourself therein",
i.e. recognize your own mortality at seeing this
dead man's head. —AJ


 


“To Mistress Margaret Hussey”


 


MERRY Margaret

 

  As midsummer flower,

 

  Gentle as falcon

 

  Or hawk of the tower:

 

With solace and gladness,

         5

Much mirth and no madness,

 

All good and no badness;

 

    So joyously,

 

    So maidenly,

 

    So womanly

  10

    Her demeaning

 

    In every thing,

 

    Far, far passing

 

    That I can indite,

 

    Or suffice to write

  15

  Of Merry Margaret

 

  As midsummer flower,

 

  Gentle as falcon

 

  Or hawk of the tower.

 

  As patient and still

  20

  And as full of good will

 

  As fair Isaphill,

 

  Coliander,

 

  Sweet pomander,

 

  Good Cassander;

  25

  Steadfast of thought,

 

  Well made, well wrought,

 

  Far may be sought,

 

  Ere that ye can find

 

  So courteous, so kind

  30

  As merry Margaret,

 

  This midsummer flower,

 

  Gentle as falcon

 

  Or hawk of the tower.

 


 


 

GLOSS:  Isaphill] Hypsipyle.  coliander] coriander seed, an aromatic.  pomander] a ball of perfume.  Cassander] Cassandra.


 


 


 


 


Last modified: Wednesday, 12 February 2020, 1:56 PM