ELIZABETHAN AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURY LYRICS LYRIC poetry differs fundamentally from epic or narrative poetry in that it is concerned not with telling a story but with expressing the poet's personal feelings or his thoughts emotionally presented. The lyric is generally short, well unified, and direct; it should also have the quality of emotional intensity, whether it is a spontaneous outburst of a singer who holds nothing back, or the restrained but none the less genuine expression of a reflective poet whose emotion is "recollected in tranquillity." The Age of Elizabeth was a time of enthusiasm and of dramatic achievement. The Revival of Learning and the Reformation had combined to give men new zest for life, and the drama and lyric poetry were natural outlets. Many of the early lyrics of the period are free, spontaneous utterances, full of the enthusiasm that requires expression in song. At the same time, much of the poetry was written by those associated with the court and its elaborate etiquette, who were strongly under the influence of conventions. The sonnet and the pastoral, for example, were written in imitation of foreign models and appropriated many highly conventionalized images. It is consequently difficult to be sure at times whether the poet is expressing his own feelings or writing according to the fashion. This uncertainty makes it impossible to assert positively that Shakespeare's sonnets have autobiographical value, but in any case they are beautiful in imagery, deep in thought, and rich in music. In general, enthusiasm for poetic expression characterizes the lyrics of the time, and there is no similar body of English poety that contains so much of the song quality. As the century advanced, the reflective and philosophical element became stronger, as is evidenced by the poetry of John Donne and the religious lyrists whom he influenced. There is subtle thinking and less of the bright joyousness of the earlier period. In Ben Jonson and his followers, Herrick, Carew, Lovelace, and Suckling we find the qualities of finish, symmetry, and polish that resulted from the desire to say a thing as well as it could be said, the manner of what is called Classicism. The best sonnets of Milton show clearly the effectiveness of this highly developed sense of form, combined with dignity of theme and glowing emotion. SIR THOMAS WYATT (1503?-1542) For hitherto though I have lost my time, Me list no longer rotten boughs to climb. And in me claim no more authority. With idle youth go use thy property, And thereon spend thy many brittle In temperate heat, where he is felt and In presence prest of people, mad or wise; In lusty youth, or when my hairs are gray; Set me in heaven, in earth, or else in hell; In hill, or dale, or in the foaming flood; Thrall, or at large, alive whereso I dwell; Sick or in health, in evil fame or good; Hers will I be, and only with this thought Content myself, although my chance be naught. GEORGE GASCOIGNE (1525?-1577) A STRANGE PASSION OF A LOVER Amid my bale1 I bathe in bliss, And yet my moan no tongue can tell. I laugh sometimes with little lust,2 Then like the lark that passed the night So sing I now because I think And as fair Philomene again To which to thee, dear wench, I write, That know'st my mirth, but not my moan: I pray God grant thee deep delight, JOHN LYLY (1554?-1606) APELLES' SONG Cupid and my Campaspe played rows: Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose These things seem strange, yet are they Growing on's cheek (but none knows SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586) .Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest SONNETS XXXI With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What, may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries! Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes bed, A chamber deaf of noise and blind of light, A rosy garland and a weary head: And if these things, as being thine in right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see. XLI Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance Guided so well that I obtained the prize, Both by the judgment of the English eyes And of some sent from that sweet enemy, France; Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance; Town folks my strength; a daintier judge applies His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance; Others, because of both sides I do take My blood from them who did excel in this, Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make. How far they shot awry! The true cause is, Stella looked on; and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race. LEAVE ME, O LOVE, WHICH REACHEST BUT TO DUST Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust, And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things; Grow rich in that which never taketh rust: Now with his wings he plays with me, Whatever fades but fading pleasure Within mine eyes he makes his nest, Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy My kisses are his daily feast, might To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be, Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light That doth both shine and give us sight to see. And yet he robs me of my rest. And if I sleep, then percheth he And makes his pillow of my knee, Oh, take fast hold! let that light be thy Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; ΙΟ 20 And bind you, when you long to play, I'll shut my eyes to keep you in, If he gainsay me? What if I beat the wanton boy He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, ROBERT GREENE (1560 ?-1592) SOME SAY LOVE Some say Love, Foolish Love, 30 Doth rule and, govern all the gods: 1 hush |