The 313th anniversary of the death of the major seventeenth-century Restoration dramatist and first Poet Laureate, John Dryden, occurred recently on the 1st of May (1700). I felt quite bad about neglecting such an event, so here’s my little homage to Dryden’s work: King David, from “Absalom and Achitophel”: In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, Before polygamy… Read on
Henry Vaughan was a seventeenth century poet from Wales, and he was born on the 17th of April, 1621. In honour of his birth, here is one of his poems, which I hope you will enjoy: I Walk’d the Other Day I walk’d the other day, to spend my hour, Into a field, Where I sometimes had… Read on
Happy World Poetry Day! In honour of this, I would like to share a 17th Century poem with you by Sir George Etherege: If she be not kind as fair, But peevish and unhandy. Leave her – she’s only worth the care Of some spruce jack-a-dandy. I would not have thee such an ass, Hadst thou ne’er so… Read on
The following excerpt is attributed to Andrew Marvell: I sing a Woofull Ditty Of a Wound that long will smart-a Given (the more’s the Pitty) In the Realme of Magna Charta: Youth! Youth! thou’dst better be slaine by thy Foes Than live to hang’d for cutting a Nose. Our good King Charles the Second Too flippant of Treasure… Read on
I really enjoy Sir Walter Ralegh’s poetry. I don’t like that he made tobacco and potatoes popular, but that’s just me. I would like to share this one poem by him, entitled “The Excuse.” I picked up a copy of his poems from the National Portrait Gallery when I went to see the Lost Prince exhibition, and I… Read on
Happy Valentine’s Day! This is the perfect opportunity to use John Donne’s, “The Good Morrow,” which is my favourite poem by him: “My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; Where can we find two better hemispheres Without sharp north, without declining west? Whatever dies was not mixed… Read on
The following satire was written by John Wilmot, the debauched Earl of Rochester, in 1678. The following is one of the few I can put here (his naughty bits are found in Bawdy House Banter). Crushed by that just contempt his follies bring On his crazed head, the vermin fain would sting; But never satyr did so softly… Read on
Constancy “Love unreturned, howe’er the flame Seem great and pure, may still admit Degrees of more, and a new name And strength acceptance gives to it. Till then, by honour there’s no tie Laid on it, that it ne’er decay; The mind’s last act by constancy Ought to be sealed, and not the way. Did aught but love’s… Read on