English

(Ballade des femmes de Paris)

Take those famed for language fair,
Past, or in the present tense,
Each good as Love's messenger:
Florentines, Venetiennes.
Roman girls, Lombardiennes,
Girls whose names Geneva carries,
Piedmont girls, Savoysiennes;
No lips speak like those of Paris.

Though for grace of language are
Famed the Neapolitans,
And in chattering Germans share
Pride of place with Prussians.
Taking Greeks, Egyptians,
Austrians, whom no rhyme marries,
Spanish girls, Castillians;

In his lambskin coat,
With five plain thread seams,
Home to sup from his work,
How smart he seems!

In his lambskin cape,
With five plain thread stitches,
How smart he seems,
As he homeward fetches!

In his lambskin cloak,
With five plain thread coils,
How smart he seems,
Going home from his toils.

His Pen did once Meat from the Eater fetch;
And now he's gone beyond the Eaters reach.
His Body , once so Thin , was next to None;
From Thence, he's to Unbodied Spirits flown .
Once his rare skill did all Diseases heal;
And he does nothing now uneasy feel.
He to his Paradise is Joyful come;
And waits with Joy to see his Day of Doom.

For all the Ship-wracks, and the liquid graves
Lost men have gain'd within the furrow'd waves
The Sea hath fin'd, and for our wrongs paid use
When its wrought foam a Venus did produce.
But what repair wilt thou unhappy Thames
Afford our losse? Thy dull unactive streames
Can no new beauty raise, nor yet restore
Her, who by thee was ravisht from our shore:
Whose death hath stain'd the glory of thy flood
And mixt the guilty Channel with her blood.
O Neptune! was thy favour onely writ
In that loose Element where thou dost sit?

  Graves ! Where in Dust are laid our dearest Hopes !
 Pay, Passengers , your Tributary Drops .
Your Tears Allow'd, yea, Hallowed now become,
Since Tears were drop't by JESUS on a Tomb .
Churches, Weep on; & Wounded yield your Tears ;
Tears use to flow from hack't New-English Firrs .
  Zion , Thy Sons are gone; Tho' men might see
This and that Man , brave Men, were born in thee .
Tell, what they were; Let thy True Trumpet tell
Truth of the Sons of Truth , and how they fell.
Sure, when our Sev'n did to their Seats retire,

Move on thou Floating Trophee built to Fame!
And bid Hir Trump spread Thy Majestick Name;
That the blew Tritons, and those petty Gods
Which sport themselves upon the dancing Floods,
May bow as to their Neptune, when they feele
The awfull pressure of thy potent Keele.
Great Wonder of the Time! whose Forme unites
In one aspect Two warring Opposites,
Delight and Horrour; and in them portends
Diff'ring events both to thy Foes and Friends.
To These thy Radiant brow, Peace's bright Shrine,
Doth like that Golden Constellation shine

Flow on, Just Tears , and let such Dues be paid:
Tears were at first, for these Occasions made.

Long did I Vex in Vain at Stupid Man,
That e're Men found out Painting, so long Ages ran.
Fain would I Painted to the Life have seen
The Heroines that in past Times have been.
O could we Present that bright SARAH View,
Who Mortals charm'd, and who pleas'd Angels too.
Or that brave MIRIAM, She of whom tis said,
The Israels Daughters in Devotions Led :

Pluck the quince
to serve a prince,
by isle, and pool.

Plucking quinces
in service of princes,
in vale, pluck again
and carry to fane.

In high wimple
bear to the temple
ere dawn light,
then home
for the night, leisurely, leisurely.

Sir I must ever owne my self to be
Possest with humane curiositee
Of seeing all that might the Sense invite
By those two baites of profit and delight.
And since I had the witt to understand
The Termes of Native or of Forraine land;
I have had strong and oft desires to tread
Some of those Voyages which I have read.
Yet still so fruitlesse have my wishes prov'd
That from my Countrye's smoak I never mov'd:
Nor ever had the fortune (though design'd)
To satisfy the wandrings of my mind.

And wherefore does the student trim his lamp,
And watch his lonely taper, when the stars
Are holding their high festival in heaven,
And worshipping around the midnight throne?
And wherefore does he spend so patiently,
In deep and voiceless thought, the blooming hours
Of youth and joyance, when the blood is warm,
And the heart full of buoyancy and fire?

The sun is on the waters, and the air
Breathes with a stirring energy; the plants
Expand their leaves, and swell their buds, and blow,