The Sonnets and Other Poems (17 page)
Read The Sonnets and Other Poems Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music
It was a
lording
1
’s daughter, the fairest one of three,
That likèd of her
master
2
as well as well might be,
Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that eye could see,
Her fancy fell a-turning.
Long was the combat
doubtful
5
that love with love did fight,
To leave the master loveless or kill the gallant knight,
To put in practice either, alas, it was a
spite
7
Unto the
silly
8
damsel!
But one must be refusèd: more
mickle
9
was the pain
That
nothing could be usèd to turn them both to gain
10
,
For of the two the trusty knight was
wounded with disdain
11
,
Alas, she could not help it!
Thus
art
13
with arms contending was victor of the day,
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away:
Then,
lullaby
15
, the learnèd man hath got the lady gay,
For now my song is ended.
On a day, alack the day,
Love whose month was ever May
Spied a blossom
passing
3
fair,
Playing in the
wanton
4
air.
Through the velvet
leaves
5
the wind
All unseen ’gan passage find,
That
7
the lover,
sick to death
,
Wished himself the heavens’ breath.
‘
Air
9
,’ quoth he, ‘thy cheeks may blow:
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alas, my hand hath sworn
Ne’er to
pluck thee from thy thorn
12
:
Vow, alack, for youth
unmeet
13
,
Youth, so apt to pluck a
sweet
14
.
Thou for whom
Jove
15
would swear
Juno
16
but an
Ethiope
were,
And
deny himself for Jove
17
,
Turning mortal for thy love.’
My flocks feed not, my ewes breed not,
My rams
speed
2
not, all is amiss:
Love is dying, faith’s
defying
3
,
Heart’s denying
4
, causer of this.
All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All my lady’s love is lost, God
wot
6
.
Where her faith was firmly fixed in love,
There a ‘nay’ is placed
without remove
8
.
One
silly
9
cross
wrought all my loss,
O frowning Fortune, cursèd fickle dame,
For now I see inconstancy
More in women than in men remain.
In black mourn I, all fears scorn I,
Love hath forlorn me, living
in thrall
14
:
Heart is bleeding, all help needing,
O cruel
speeding
16
,
fraughted with gall
.
My shepherd’s pipe can sound
no deal
17
,
My
wether
18
’s bell rings doleful
knell
,
My
curtal
19
dog that
wont
to have played,
Plays not at all, but seems afraid —
With sighs so deep
procures
21
to weep,
In howling
wise
22
, to see my doleful plight.
How sighs resound through
heartless ground
23
,
Like a thousand vanquished men in bloody fight.
Clear wells spring not, sweet birds sing not,
Green plants bring not forth their
dye
26
,
Herds stand weeping, flocks all sleeping,
Nymphs back peeping fearfully.
All our pleasure known to us poor
swains
29
,
All our merry meetings on the plains,
All our evening sport from us is fled,
All our love is lost, for love is dead.
Farewell, sweet love, thy like ne’er was
For a sweet content, the cause of all my woe.
Poor
Corydon
35
must live alone:
Other help for him I see that there is none.
When as thine eye hath chose the dame,
And
stalled
2
the
deer
that thou shouldst
strike
,
Let reason rule
things worthy blame
3
,
As well as
fancy
4
,
partial might
.
Take counsel of some wiser head,
Neither too young nor yet unwed
6
.
And when thou com’st thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with
filèd
8
talk,
Lest she some
subtle practice
9
smell —
A cripple soon can
find a halt
10
—
But plainly say thou lov’st her well,
And
set her person forth to sale
12
.
And to her will frame all thy ways:
Spare not to
spend
14
, and chiefly there
Where thy
desert
15
may merit praise
By
ringing
16
in thy lady’s ear.
The strongest castle, tower and town,
The
golden bullet
18
beats it down.
Serve always with assurèd trust
And in thy suit be humble true,
Unless thy lady prove
unjust
21
Press
22
never thou to choose anew:
When time shall serve, be thou not
slack
23
To proffer, though she
put thee back
24
.
What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm
ere
26
night,
And then too late she will repent
That thus
dissembled
28
her delight,
And twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she
put away
30
.
What though she strive to try her strength
And
ban
32
and
brawl
, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say:
‘Had women been so strong as men,
In faith, you had not had it then.’
The wiles and guiles that women work,
Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and
toys
39
that in them lurk,
The
cock
40
that
treads
them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft,
‘A woman’s “nay” doth stand for
naught
42
’?
Think women still to strive with men,
To sin and never for to saint
43
:
There
45
is no heaven, be holy then,
When time with age shall them
attaint
46
.
Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.
But,
soft
49
, enough, too much, I fear,
Lest that my mistress hear my song:
She will not
stick
51
to
round
me on the ear,
To teach my tongue to be so long,
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her secrets so
bewrayed
54
.
Live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures
prove
2
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing
madrigals
8
.
There will I make thee a bed of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a
kirtle
11
Embroidered all with leaves of
myrtle
12
.
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Then live with me and be my love.
LOVE’S ANSWER
17
If that the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of
myrtles
4
made,
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring,
Every thing did banish
moan
7
,
Save the nightingale alone:
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Leaned her breast up till a thorn
10
,
And there sung the dolefull’st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity:
‘Fie, fie, fie,’ now would she cry,
‘Tereu,
Tereu
14
!’ by and by:
That to hear her so
complain
15
,
Scarce I could from tears refrain,
For her griefs so
lively
17
shown
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn’st in vain,
None takes pity on thy pain:
Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,
Ruthless bears they will not cheer thee,
King Pandion
23
he is dead,
All thy friends are
lapped in lead
24
,
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.
Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled,
Thou and I were both
beguiled
28
.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy like the wind,
Faithful friends are hard to find:
Every man will be thy friend
Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend,
But if store of
crowns
35
be scant,
No man will supply thy
want
36
.
If that one be
prodigal
37
,
Bountiful they will him call,
And with such-like flattering,
‘Pity but he were a king.’
40
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice.
If to women he be
bent
43
,
They have
at commandement
44
.
But if Fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown:
They that fawned on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow he will weep,
If thou
wake
52
he cannot sleep,
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flatt’ring foe.
As the
dial
1
hand tells o’er
The same hours it had before,
Still beginning in the ending,
Circular account still lending,
So, most mighty Queen we pray,
Like the dial day by day
You may lead the seasons on,
Making new when old are gone,
That the babe which now is young
And hath yet no use of tongue
Many a
Shrovetide
11
here may bow
To that empress I do now,
That the children of these lords,
Sitting at your council
boards
14
,
May be grave and agèd seen
Of her that was their fathers’ queen.
Once I wish this wish again,
Heaven subscribe it with ‘Amen’.
LOUDEST LAY”
LET the
bird of loudest
1
lay
On the sole Arabian tree
Herald sad and
trumpet
3
be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou
shrieking harbinger
5
,
Foul
precurrer
6
of the
fiend
,
Augur
7
of the fever’s end,
To this troop come thou not near.
From this
session
9
interdict
Every
fowl of tyrant wing
10
,
Save
11
the eagle, feathered king:
Keep the
obsequy
12
so
strict
.
Let the priest in
surplice
13
white,
That
defunctive
14
music
can
,
Be the
death-divining
15
swan,
Lest the requiem lack
his right
16
.
And thou
treble-dated
17
crow,
That thy
sable gender
18
mak’st
With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st,
’Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the
anthem
21
doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix
23
and the
turtle
fled
In a mutual flame
24
from hence.
So they loved, as
25
love in
twain
Had the
essence but in one
26
,
Two
distincts
27
, division none:
Number
28
there in love was slain.
Hearts
remote
29
, yet not
asunder
;
Distance
30
and no space was seen
’Twixt this turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder
32
.
So between them love did shine
That the turtle saw his
right
34
Flaming in the phoenix’
sight
35
:
Either was the other’s mine
36
.
Property
37
was thus appalled
That the self was not
the same
38
:
Single nature’s double name
Neither two nor one was called
39
.
Reason, in itself
confounded
41
,
Saw
division grow together
42
,
To themselves yet either neither
43
,
Simple
44
were so well
compounded
,
That
it
45
cried, ‘How
true
a twain
Seemeth this
concordant
46
one!
Love hath reason, reason none,
If
what parts can so remain
48
.’
Whereupon it made this
threne
49
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supremes
51
and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene.
Beauty, truth and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed in cinders lie.
Death is now the phoenix’ nest,
And the turtle’s loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no
posterity
59
.
’Twas not their
infirmity
60
,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem but cannot be,
Beauty brag but ’tis not she,
Truth and be
64
auty buried be.
To this urn let those
repair
65
That are either true or fair,
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
William Shake-speare