Richard Crashaw (c.1612-1649)

He was the son of a staunch Puritan preacher. He was educated at Pembroke College, Cambridge from where he graduated in 1634 going on to become a fellow of Peterhouse. After the English Civil War he became a Roman Catholic and left England for France. Introduced to the French Queen, Henrietta Maria, by his friend Abraham Cowley, another ex-Cambridge fellow who was working as her secretary, he was helped by her to obtain a position at Loreto Cathedral in Italy, where he died in 1649. Crashaw's principal poetic work was the Steps to the Temple, a collection of religious poems published in 1646. Attached to this was a non-religious section entitled Delights of the Muses, which contains his best-known poem Wishes to his Supposed Mistress. After his death his friend, Miles Pinkney, published a more complete volume of his works, Carmen Deo Nostro.

Wishes to His Supposed Mistress

WHOE'ER she be—
That not impossible She
That shall command my heart and me:

Where'er she lie,
Lock'd up from mortal eye
In shady leaves of destiny:

Till that ripe birth
Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her fair steps to our earth:

Till that divine
Idea take a shrine
Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:

Meet you her, my Wishes,
Bespeak her to my blisses,
And be ye call'd my absent kisses.

I wish her Beauty,
That owes not all its duty
To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie:

Something more than
Taffata or tissue can,
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

A Face, that 's best
By its own beauty drest,
And can alone commend the rest.

A Face, made up
Out of no other shop
Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.

A Cheek, where youth
And blood, with pen of truth,
Write what the reader sweetly ru'th.

A Cheek, where grows
More than a morning rose,
Which to no box his being owes.

Lips, where all day
A lover's kiss may play,
Yet carry nothing thence away.

Looks, that oppress
Their richest tires, but dress
And clothe their simplest nakedness.

Eyes, that displace
The neighbour diamond, and outface
That sunshine by their own sweet grace.

Tresses, that wear
Jewels but to declare
How much themselves more precious are:

Whose native ray
Can tame the wanton day
Of gems that in their bright shades play.

Each ruby there,
Or pearl that dare appear,
Be its own blush, be its own tear.

A well-tamed Heart,
For whose more noble smart
Love may be long choosing a dart.

Eyes, that bestow
Full quivers on love's bow,
Yet pay less arrows than they owe.

Smiles, that can warm
The blood, yet teach a charm,
That chastity shall take no harm.

Blushes, that bin
The burnish of no sin,
Nor flames of aught too hot within.

Joys, that confess
Virtue their mistress,
And have no other head to dress.

Fears, fond and slight
As the coy bride's, when night
First does the longing lover right.

Days, that need borrow
No part of their good-morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

Days, that in spite
Of darkness, by the light
Of a clear mind, are day all night.

Nights, sweet as they,
Made short by lovers' play,
Yet long by th' absence of the day.

Life, that dares send
A challenge to his end,
And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend!'

Sydneian showers
Of sweet discourse, whose powers
Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Soft silken hours,
Open suns, shady bowers;
'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

Whate'er delight
Can make Day's forehead bright,
Or give down to the wings of Night.

I wish her store
Of worth may leave her poor
Of wishes; and I wish—no more.

Now, if Time knows
That Her, whose radiant brows
Weave them a garland of my vows;

Her, whose just bays
My future hopes can raise,
A trophy to her present praise;

Her, that dares be
What these lines wish to see;
I seek no further, it is She.

'Tis She, and here,
Lo! I unclothe and clear
My Wishes' cloudy character.

May she enjoy it
Whose merit dare apply it,
But modesty dares still deny it!

Such worth as this is
Shall fix my flying Wishes,
And determine them to kisses.

Let her full glory,
My fancies, fly before ye;
Be ye my fictions—but her story.

Posted by Antonio Deodato Leão

The Revival by Henry Vaughan

Unfold! unfold! Take in His light,
Who makes thy cares more short than night.
The joys which with His day-star rise,
He deals to all but drowsy eyes;
And (what the men of this world miss)
Some drops and dews of future bliss.

Hark! how his winds have chang'd their note,
And with warm whispers call thee out.
The frosts are past, the storms are gone,
And backward life at last comes on.
The lofty groves in express joys
Reply unto the turtle's voice;
And here in dust and dirt, O here
The lilies of His love appear! 

Henry Vaughan

Henry Vaughan (April 17, 1622 − April 23, 1695) was a Welsh physician and metaphysical poet. Vaughan spent most of his life in the village of Llansantffraed, near Brecon, where he was also buried.

Both Henry and his twin Thomas were schooled locally by the rector of Llangattock (Crickhowell), the Rev. Matthew Herbert. Vaughan took his literary inspiration from his native environment and chose the descriptive name "Silurist," derived from his homage to the Silures, the Celtic tribe of pre-Roman south Wales which strongly resisted the Romans.

By 1647 Henry Vaughan, with his wife and children, had chosen life in the country. This is the setting in which Vaughan wrote Olor Iscanus, the (Swan of Usk). Olor Iscanus is a direct representation of a specific period in Vaughan's life, which emphasizes other secular writers and provides allusions to debt and happy living. It is a work filled with odd words and similes that beg for attention despite its dark and morbid cognitive appeal.

There is a distinct difference between the atmosphere Vaughan attempts to convey in this work and in his most famous work, Silex Scintillans. 

Critics have complained that Vaughan is enslaved to George Herbert's works, using similar "little tricks" such as abrupt introductions and whimsical titles as a framework for his own work, and that he "failed to learn" from Herbert. Vaughan carried an inability to know his limits and focused more on the intensity of the poem, meanwhile losing the attention of his audience.

Alliteration (conspicuous in Welsh poetry) is more extensively used by Vaughan than most of his contemporaries writing English verse, noticeably in the opening to The Water-fall.

He is recognized "as another example of a poet who can write both graceful and effective prose" and influenced the work of poets such as Wordsworth, Tennyson and Siegfried Sassoon. The American science fiction writer Philip K. Dick even named Vaughan as a key influence.


Source: wikipedia.org  

George Herbert

George Herbert

George was born in Montgomery in wales in 3 April 1593 . He was an English poet, orator and Anglican priest.

He received a good education wich led to his holding prominent positions at Cambridge University and Parliament. He went to college with the intention of becoming a priest, but his scholarship attracted the attention of King James I/VI. After the death of King James and at the urging of a friend, Herbert's interest in ordained ministry was renewed.

n 1630, in his late thirties he gave up his secular ambitions and took holy orders in the Church of England, spending the rest of his life as a rector of the little parish of Fugglestone St Peter with Bemerton St Andrew, near Salisbury.

Works

The Temple: Sacred poems and private ejaculations, edited by Nicholas Ferrar. The book went through eight editions by 1690.

Barnabas Oley edited in 1652 Herbert's Remains, or sundry pieces of that Sweet Singer, Mr. George Herbert, containing A Priest to the Temple, or the countrey parson, Jacula Prudentum, &c. Prefixed was an unsigned preface by Oley. The second edition appeared in 1671 as A Priest to the Temple or the Country Parson, with a new preface, signed Barnabas Oley. These pieces were reprinted in later editions of Herbert's Works. The manuscript of The Country Parson was the property of Herbert's friend, Arthur Wodenoth, who gave it to Oley; the prefaces were a source for Izaak Walton's memoir of Herbert.

All of Herbert's English surviving poems are religious, and some have been used as hymns, William Cowper said of them I found in them a strain of piety which I could not but admire.^[11] They are characterised by directness of expression and some conceits which can appear quaint. Many of the poems have intricate rhyme schemes, and variations of lines within stanzas described as 'a cascade of form floats through the temple. An example of Herbert’s religious poetry is “The Altar.

Herbert influenced his fellow metaphysical poet Henry Vaughan who, in turn, influenced William Wordsworth.

George Herbert's poetry has been set to music by several composers, including Ralph Vaughan Williams, Lennox Berkeley, Benjamin Britten, Judith Weir, Randall Thompson, William Walton andPatrick Larley.




Mariluce lemos

George Herbert

The Altar

A broken ALTAR, Lord thy servant rears,
Made of a heart, and cemented with teares:
Whose parts are as thy hand did frame;
No workmans tool hath touch'd the same
A HEART alone
Is such a stone,
As nothing but
Thy pow'r doth cut.
Wherefore each part
Of my hard heart
Meets in this frame,
To praise thy Name:
That if I chance to hold my peace,
These stones to praise thee may not cease.
O let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine,
And sanctifie this ALTAR to be thine.

Mariluce Bonfim

Andrew Marvel

Andrew Marvell (1621 – 1678) was born in Winestead-in-Holderness, East Riding of Yorkshire . He studied at Trinity College and  Cambridge. He could speak languages as:  French, Italian and Spanish.

His first poems were written in Latin and Greek.  He served as tutor to the daughter of the Lord General Thomas Fairfax. He became a Parliamentarian in 1659, but he was not a Puritan.

.  He was John Milton’s friend and colleague. His poetry was metaphysical, pastoral and satiric.


Adriano Neves

Andrew Marvel

The Garden

by Andrew Marvell

How vainly men themselves amaze

To win the palm, the oak, or bays ;

And their uncessant labors see

Crowned from some single herb or tree,

Whose short and narrow-vergèd shade

Does prudently their toils upbraid ;

While all the flowers and trees do close

To weave the garlands of repose.

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,

And Innocence, thy sister dear!

Mistaken long, I sought you then

In busy companies of men :

Your sacred plants, if here below,

Only among the plants will grow ;

Society is all but rude,

To this delicious solitude.

No white nor red was ever seen

So amorous as this lovely green ;

Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,

Cut in these trees their mistress' name.

Little, alas, they know or heed,

How far these beauties hers exceed!

Fair trees! wheresoe'er your barks I wound

No name shall but your own be found.

so_def_jam@hotmail.com disse (17:53):

When we have run our passion's heat,

Love hither makes his best retreat :

The gods who mortal beauty chase,

Still in a tree did end their race.

Apollo hunted Daphne so,

Only that she might laurel grow,

And Pan did after Syrinx speed,

Not as a nymph, but for a reed.

What wondrous life is this I lead!

Ripe apples drop about my head ;

The luscious clusters of the vine

Upon my mouth do crush their wine ;

The nectarine and curious peach

Into my hands themselves do reach ;

Stumbling on melons as I pass,

Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass.

Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,

Withdraws into its happiness :

The mind, that ocean where each kind

Does straight its own resemblance find ;

Yet it creates, transcending these,

Far other worlds, and other seas ;

Annihilating all that's made

To a green thought in a green shade

Here at the fountain's sliding foot,

Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,

Casting the body's vest aside,

My soul into the boughs does glide :

There like a bird it sits and sings,

Then whets and combs its silver wings ;

And, till prepared for longer flight,

Waves in its plumes the various light.

Such was that happy garden-state,

While man there walked without a mate :

After a place so pure and sweet,

What other help could yet be meet!

But 'twas beyond a mortal's share

To wander solitary there :

Two paradises 'twere in one

To live in Paradise alone.

How well the skillful gard'ner drew

Of flowers and herbs this dial new ;

Where from above the milder sun

Does through a fragrant zodiac run ;

And, as it works, th' industrious bee

Computes its time as well as we.

How could such sweet and wholesome hours

Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers!

Adriano Neves