Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle 3586

Ballade des Dames du Temps Jadis. .François Villon.

3587

PART VII

POEMS OF SORROW, DEATH AND

IMMORTALITY

"DEATH, BE NOT PROUD”

From "Holy Sonnets "

DEATH, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.
From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go-
Rest of their bones and souls' delivery!

Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!
John Donne [1573-1631]

IN THE SHADOW

MELANCHOLY

From "The Nice Valor"

HENCE, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights,
Wherein you spend your folly:
There's naught in this life sweet
If man were wise to see't,
But only melancholy,

O sweetest Melancholy!
Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes,
A sigh that piercing mortifies,

A look that's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chained up without a sound!
Fountain-heads and pathless groves,
Places which pale passion loves!
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
Are warmly housed save bats and owls!
A midnight bell, a parting groan!

These are the sounds we feed upon;

Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley;

Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. John Fletcher [1579-1625]

ON MELANCHOLY

No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist

Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed

By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;

Make not your rosary of yew-berries,