Author: Mike (81.198.70.---)
Date: 01-23-06 12:11
The former post was off topic and was removed as it was a violation of our
Great Books spirit.
These forums are being phased out & replaced. Join us at our new
registration-only forums at:
jollyrogerwest.com Great Books forums,
and booksliterature.com Great Books forums.
Please respect that these are Great Books sites. We far prefer
discussions along the following
Who is it that says most, which can say more,
Than this rich praise,--that you alone, are you?
In whose confine immured is the store
Which should example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory;
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, so dignifies his story,
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admired every where.
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.
Concentrated power has always been the enemy of liberty.
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook\'d for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes\' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun\'s eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foil\'d,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil\'d:
Then happy I, that love and am belov\'d,
Where I may not remove nor be remov\'d.
Your love and pity doth the impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stamp\'d upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o\'er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my all-the-world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel\'d sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others\' voices, that my adder\'s sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides methinks are dead.