Classic and Contemporary Poetry
POETASTER: SONG (1), by BEN JONSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Wake! Our mirth begins to die Last Line: Which doth all the rest excel. | ||||||||
ALBIUS Wake! Our mirth begins to die; Quicken it with tunes and wine. Raise your notes; you're out; fie, fie! This drowsiness is an ill sign. We banish him the choir of gods, That droops again: Then all are men, For here's not one but nods. . . . HERMOGENES Then, in a free and lofty strain, Our broken tunes we thus repair; CRISPINUS And we answer them again, Running division on the panting air; BOTH To celebrate this feast of sense, As free from scandal as offence. HERMOGENES Here is beauty for the eye; CRISPINUS For the ear sweet melody; HERMOGENES Ambrosiac odours, for the smell; CRISPINUS Delicious nectar, for the taste; BOTH For the touch, a lady's waist; Which doth all the rest excel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS: 4. HER TRIUMPH by BEN JONSON A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS: 5. HIS DISCOURSE WITH CUPID by BEN JONSON A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON A NYMPH'S PASSION by BEN JONSON A SONNET, TO THE NOBLE LADY, THE LADY MARY WROTH by BEN JONSON AN ODE TO HIMSELF by BEN JONSON ANSWER TO MASTER WITHER'S SONG, 'SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR?' by BEN JONSON EPICOENE; OR, THE SILENT WOMAN: FREEDOM IN DRESS by BEN JONSON EPIGRAM: 118. ON GUT by BEN JONSON |
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