dave bircumshaw writes:
Re: Chorus Sacerdotum.
> Well, this approximates to my idea of poetry. it's certainly not perfect,
> but the opening and closing lines have a kick to them that can hardly be
> recounted.
-- discounted? --
Not as good as Chorus Sacerdotum, but my favourite (+not+ necessarily the
best) Greville poem is "Farewell, sweet boy ... "
... comes smack in the middle of _Caelica_, about the time when Greville is
switching from love to society, and it mixes the two. A bit of what creases
me is that the bloody poem +looks+ like a Typical Petrarchan Love Lyric, but
it ain't.
Greville moaning that he has to do suck-up to upper-class twitches.
Neat, that, but.
<g>
Robin
[Incidentally, you ever read the whole of _Mustapha_? I ain't neither, so
I'll forgive you Extracting a bit ...
<g>
But ...
Notice the stanzaic structure in Chorus Sac? Think Greville's _Treatises_
...
{Pedantic} R2. ]
***
Farewell, sweet Boy, complain not of my truth;
Thy mother loved thee not with more devotion;
For to thy boy's play I gave all my youth,
Young master, I did hope for your promotion.
While some sought honours, princes' thoughts observing,
Many wooed fame, the child of pain and anguish,
Others judged inward good a chief deserving,
I in thy wanton visions joyed to languish.
I bowed not to the image for succession,
Nor bound thy bow to shoot reformed kindness,
Thy plays of hope and fear were my confession,
The spectacles to my life was thy blindness.
But Cupid now farewell, I will go play me
With thoughts that please me less, and less betray me.
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