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:
- Beyond The Veil by Timothy Thomas Fortune
- English Poetry. Charles Wesley. Hark! A Voice Divides the Sky. Чарльз Уэсли.
- When and Why by Rabindranath Tagore
- Monday by Vishü Rita Krocha
- Robert Burns: Sonnet On Receiving A Favour: Addressed to Robert Graham, Esq. of Fintry.
- Envoi poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Robert Burns: The Wounded Hare:
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland 1814 I. Suggested By A Beautiful Ruin Upon One Of The Islands Of Lo by William Wordsworth
- Кондратий Рылеев – Оставь меня, Я здесь молю
- Владимир Набоков – Лыжный прыжок
- Elegiac Stanzas Suggested By A Picture Of Peele Castle by William Wordsworth
- Since There Is No Escape by Sara Teasdale
- Анатолий Жигулин – Где теперь ты, рыжая
- Flowers From Sion: Sonnet 25 – More oft than once death whispered by William Drummond
- Robert Burns: Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever:
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
- Robert Burns: Scroggam, My Dearie:
- Robert Burns: When She Cam’ Ben She Bobbed :
- Robert Burns: The Weary Pund O’ Tow:
- Robert Burns: Lines On Fergusson, The Poet :
- Robert Burns: I do Confess Thou Art Sae Fair: Alteration of an Old Poem.
- Robert Burns: My Native Land Sae Far Awa:
- Robert Burns: Thou Gloomy December :
- Robert Burns: Behold The Hour, The Boat, Arrive:
- Robert Burns: Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever:
- Robert Burns: O May, Thy Morn:
- Robert Burns: A Grace After Dinner, Extempore:
- Robert Burns: A Grace Before Dinner, Extempore:
- Robert Burns: The Keekin’-Glass:
- Robert Burns: Divine Service In The Kirk Of Lamington:
- Robert Burns: The Toadeater:
- Robert Burns: Poem On Sensibility:
- Robert Burns: The Song Of Death: Scene-A Field of Battle. Time of the day-evening. The wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following song.
- Robert Burns: Second Epistle To Robert Graham, ESQ., Of Fintry:
- Robert Burns: Epistle To John Maxwell, ESQ., Of Terraughty : On His Birthday.
- Robert Burns: O Kenmure’s On And Awa, Willie:
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.