Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NEVER TOO LATE: RADAGON'S SONNET, by ROBERT GREENE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NEVER TOO LATE: RADAGON'S SONNET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: No clear appear'd upon the azur'd sky
Last Line: Ah, blest be she!
Subject(s): Birth; Goddesses & Gods; Mythology; Child Birth; Midwifery


NO clear appear'd upon the azur'd sky;
A veil of storms had shadow'd Phœbus' face,
And in a sable mantle of disgrace
Sat he that is y-cleped heaven's bright eye,

AS though that he,
Perplex'd for Clytie, meant to leave his place,
And wrapt in sorrows did resolve to die,
For death to lovers' woes is ever nigh:
Thus folded in a hard and mournful laze
Distress'd sat he.

A misty fog had thicken'd all the air;
Iris sat solemn and denied her showers;
Flora in tawny hid up all her flowers,
And would not diaper her meads with fair,
As though that she
Were arm'd upon the barren earth to lour;
Unto the founts Diana nild repair,
But sat, as overshadow'd with despair,
Solemn and sad within a wither'd bower,
Her nymphs and she.

Mars malcontent lay sick on Venus' knee;
Venus in dumps sat muffled with a frown;
Juno laid all her frolic humours down,
And Jove was all in dumps as well as she:
'Twas fate's decree;
For Neptune, as he meant the world to drown,
Heav'd up his surges to the highest tree,
And, leagu'd with Æol, marr'd the seaman's glee,
Beating the cedars with his billows down;
Thus wroth was he.

My mistress deigns to show her sun-bright face,
The air clear'd up, the clouds did fade away;
Phœbus was frolic when she did display
The gorgeous beauties that her front do grace:
So that when she
But walk'd abroad, the storms then fled away;
Flora did checker all her treading-place,
And Neptune calm'd the surges with his mace;
Diana and her nymphs were blithe and gay
When her they see.

Venus and Mars agreèed in a smile,
And jealous Juno ceasèd now to lour;
Jove saw her face, and sighèd in his bower;
Iris and Æol laugh['d] within a while
To see this glee.
Ah, born was she within a happy hour,
That makes heaven, earth, and gods, and all, to smile!
Such wonders can her beauteous looks compile
To clear the world from any froward lour;
Ah, blest be she!





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