Classic and Contemporary Poetry
UPON THE SICKNESS OF ELIZABETH SHELDON, by THOMAS CAREW Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Must she then languish, and we sorrow thus Last Line: Convey into his hand thy golden dart. Subject(s): Sickness; Illness | ||||||||
MUST she then languish, and we sorrow thus, And no kind god help her, nor pity us? Is justice fled from heaven? can that permit A foul deformed ravisher to sit Upon her virgin cheek, and pull from thence The rose-buds in their maiden excellence? To spread cold paleness on her lips, and chase The frighted rubies from their native place? To lick up with his searching flames a flood Of dissolv'd coral, flowing in her blood; And with the damps of his infectious breath Print on her brow moist characters of death? Must the clear light, 'gainst course of nature, cease In her fair eyes, and yet the flames increase? Must fevers shake this goodly tree, and all That ripened fruit from the fair branches fall, Which princes have desir'd to taste? Must she, Who hath preserv'd her spotless chastity From all solicitation, now at last By agues and diseases be embrac'd? Forbid it, holy Dian! else who shall Pay vows, or let one grain of incense fall On thy neglected altars, if thou bless No better this thy zealous votaress? Haste then, O maiden goddess, to her aid; Let on thy quiver her pale cheek be laid, And rock her fainting body in thine arms; Then let the God of Music with still charms Her restless eyes in peaceful slumbers close, And with soft strains sweeten her calm repose. Cupid, descend! and whilst Apollo sings, Fanning the cool air with thy panting wings Ever supply her with refreshing wind; Let thy fair mother with her tresses bind Her labouring temples, with whose balmy sweat She shall perfume her hairy coronet, Whose precious drops shall upon every fold Hang like rich pearls about a wreath of gold; Her looser locks, as they unbraided lie, Shall spread themselves into a canopy; Under whose shadow let her rest secure From chilling cold or burning calenture: Unless she freeze with ice of chaste desires, Or holy Hymen kindle nuptial fires: And when at last Death comes to pierce her heart, Convey into his hand thy golden dart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SICK CHILD by RANDALL JARRELL AFTERNOON AT MACDOWELL by JANE KENYON HAVING IT OUT WITH MELANCHOLY by JANE KENYON SONNET: 9. HOPE by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES A DEPOSITION FROM LOVE by THOMAS CAREW A PASTORAL DIALOGUE: SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS by THOMAS CAREW |
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