Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford

By Cleveland, John

Book Id: WPLBN0000577813
Format Type: PDF eBook
File Size: 135,760 KB.
Reproduction Date: 2007

Title:	Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford
Author:	Cleveland, John
Volume:
Language:	English
Subject:	Fiction, Poetry, Verse drama
Collections:	Poetry Collection
Historic Publication Date:
Publisher:	World Public Library Association


Citation APA MLA Chicago Cleveland, J. (n.d.). Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford. Retrieved from http://www.gutenberg.us/

Description
Poetry

Excerpt
Excerpt: HERE lies wise and valiant dust // Huddled up 'twixt fit and just, // Strafford, who was hurried hence // 'Twixt treason and convenience. // He spent his time here in a mist, // A Papist, yet a Calvinist; // His Prince's nearest joy and grief, // He had, yet wanted all relief; // The prop and ruin of the state; // The people's violent love and hate; // One in extremes loved and abhorred. // Riddles lie here, or in a word - // Here lies blood; and let it lie // Speechless still and never cry. // John Cleveland // Mark Antony // WHENAS the nightingale chanted her verses // And the wild forester couch'd on the ground, // Venus invited me in the evening whispers // Unto a fragrant field with roses crown'd, // Where she before had sent // My wishes' complement; // Unto my heart's content // Play'd with me on the green. // Never Mark Antony // Dallied more wantonly // With the fair Egyptian Queen. // First on her cherry cheeks I mine eyes feasted, // Thence fear of surfeiting made me retire; // Next on her warmer lips, which, when I tasted, // My duller spirits made me active as fire. // Then we began to dart, // Each at another's heart, // Arrows that knew no smart, // Sweet lips and smiles between. // Never Mark Antony // Dallied more wantonly // With the fair Egyptian Queen. // Wanting a glass to plait her amber tresses, // (mirror) // Which like a bracelet rich decked mine arm, // Gaudier than Juno wears whenas she graces // Jove with embraces more stately than warm, // Then did she peep in mine // Eyes' humor crystalline; (liquid) // I in her eyes was seen // As if we one had been. // Never Mark Antony // Dallied more wantonly // With the fair Egyptian Queen. // Mystical grammar of amorous glances; // Feeling of pulses, the physic of love; // Rhetorical courtings and musical dances; // 2 // Numbering of kisses arithmetic prove; // Eyes like astronomy; // Straight-limb'd geometry; // In her arts' ingeny (ingenuity) // Our wits were sharp and keen. // Never Mark Antony // Dallied more wantonly // With the fair Egyptian Queen. // John Cleveland // Upon Phillis Walking in a Morning before Sun-rising // (Ed. Note: Voluntaries in line 18 are // improvised pieces of music, generally performed // on the organ, preceding and sometimes following // a church service; curate in line 54 is one who // serves in place of or as a substitute for another. // -Nelson) // The sluggish morn as yet undress'd, // My Phillis brake from out her east, // As if she'd made a match to run // With Venus, usher to the sun. // The trees (like yeomen of the guard // Serving her more for pomp than ward), // Rank'd on each side, with loyal duty // Weave branches to enclose her beauty. // The plants, whose luxury was lopp'd // Or age with crutches underpropp'd, // 3 // (Whose wooden carcasses are grown // To be but coffins of their own) // Revive, and at her general dole // Each receives his ancient soul. // The winged choristers began // To chirp their matins, and the fan // Of whistling winds like organs play'd, // Until their voluntaries made // The waken'd earth in odors rise // To be her morning sacrifice. // The flowers, call'd out of their beds, // Start and raise up their drowsy heads; // And he that for their color seeks // May find it vaulting in her cheeks, (leaping) // Where roses mix,-no civil war // Divides her York and Lancaster. // The marigold (whose courtier's face // Echoes the sun and doth unlace // Her at his rise,-at his full stop // Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop) // Mistakes her cue and doth display: // Thus Phillis antedates the day. // These miracles had cramped the sun, // Who, thinking that his kingdom's won, // Powders with light his frizzled locks (curled) // To see what saint his luster mocks. // The trembling leaves through which he play'd, // 4 // Dappling the walk with light and shade // Like lattice-windows, give the spy // Room but to peep with half an eye; // Lest her full orb his sight should dim // And bid us all good night in him, // Till she should spend a gentle ray // To force us a new fashioned day. // By what religious palsy's this // Which makes the boughs divest their bliss, // And that they might her footsteps straw, (strew) // Drop their leaves in shivering awe? // Phillis perceived and (lest her stay // Should wed October unto May, // And, as her beauty caused a spring, // Devotion might an autumn bring) // Withdrew her beams, yet made no night, // But left the sun her curate-light.