Classic and Contemporary Poetry
AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF DR. PORTER, by RICHARD CRASHAW Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Stay, silver-footed came, strive not to wed Last Line: Are teeming now with store of fresh supplies. Subject(s): Porter, George (d. 1635) | ||||||||
Stay, silver-footed Came, strive not to wed Thy maiden streames soe soone to Neptunes bed: Fixe heere thy wat'ry eyes upon these towers. Unto whose feet in reverence of the powers That there inhabite, thou on every day With trembling lippes an humble kisse do'st pay. See all in mourning now; the walles are jett, With pearly papers carelesly besett Whose snowy cheekes, least joy should be exprest, The weeping pen with sable teares hath drest. Their wronged beauties speake a Tragaedy, Somewhat more horrid than an Elgy. Pure, and unmixed cruelty they tell, Which poseth mischeife's selfe to Parallel. Justice hath lost her hand, the law her head; Peace is an Orphan now; her father's dead, Honesties nurse, Vertues blest Guardian, That heavenly mortall, that Seraphick man. Enough is said. now, if thou canst crowd on Thy lazy crawling streames, pri'thee be gone, And murmur forth thy woes to every flower, That on thy bankes sitts in a verdant bower, And is instructed by thy glassy wave To paint its perfum'd face with colours brave. In vailes of dust their silken heads they'le hide, As if the oft departing sunne had dy'd. Goe learne that fatall Quire, soe sprucely dight In downy Surplisses, and vestments white, To sing their saddest Dir'ges, such as may Make their scar'd soules take wing, and fly away. Lett thy swolne breast discharge thy strugling groanes To th' churlish rocks; and teach the stubborne stones To melt in gentle drops, lett them be heard Of all proud Neptunes silver-sheilded guard; That greife may crack that string, and now untie Their shackled tongues to chant an Elegie. Whisper thy plaints to th' Oceans curteous eares, Then weepe thyselfe into a sea of teares. A thousand Helicons the Muses send In a bright Christall tide, to thee they tend, Leaving those mines of Nectar, their sweet fountains, They force a lilly path through rosy mountaines. Feare not to dy with greife; all bubling eyes Are teeming now with store of fresh supplies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG [OF DIVINE LOVE] by RICHARD CRASHAW AN EPITAPH UPON HUSBAND AND WIFE WHO DIED AND WERE BURIED by RICHARD CRASHAW CHARITAS NIMIA; OR THE DEAR BARGAIN by RICHARD CRASHAW IN THE HOLY NATIVITY [OF OUR LORD GOD]; AS SUNG BY SHEPHERDS by RICHARD CRASHAW ON GEORGE HERBERT'S BOOK, THE TEMPLE, SENT TO A GENTLEWOMAN by RICHARD CRASHAW THE FLAMING HEART by RICHARD CRASHAW WISHES TO HIS SUPPOSED MISTRESS by RICHARD CRASHAW A HYMN IN THE GLORIOUS EPIPHANIE OF OUR LORD, GOD by RICHARD CRASHAW AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF MR. STANNINOW, FELLOW OF QUEENE'S by RICHARD CRASHAW AN EPITAPH UPON DOCTOR BROOKE by RICHARD CRASHAW AN EPITAPH UPON MR. ASHTON A COMFORTABLE CITIZEN by RICHARD CRASHAW |
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