Poetry. John Skelton. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Skelton
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4064066309909
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dormio!

      Why should a man be proude or presume hye?

      Sainct Bernard therof nobly doth trete,

      And shall returne vnto wormis mete.

      Why, what cam of Alexander the greate?

      Or els of stronge Sampson, who can tell?

      And of Salomon, that was of wyt the well? 80

      Absolon profferyd his heare for to sell,

      Yet for al his bewte wormys ete him also;

      And I but late in honour dyd excel,

       Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

      I haue played my pageyond, now am I past;

      Ye wot well all I was of no great yeld:

      When death approchyth, then lost is the felde:

      Then sythen this world me no longer vphelde,

      In manus tuas, Domine, my spirite vp I yelde,

      O ye curtes commyns, your hertis vnbrace

      Benyngly now to pray for me also;

      For ryght wel you know your kyng I was,

      Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!

      “For the world hathe conformid me to fall.”

      “Now is ther no helpe but pray for my sovle.”

      “What ys it to trust the mutabylyte

      Of this world whan no thyng may endure.”

      “And more to encrese was myne entent

      And not beynge ware who shuld it ocupye.”

      “Wynsore and eton and many oder mo

      As Westmynster Eltham and sone went I from all.”

      And so, with slight variation, in Nash’s Quaternio: see notes.

      “Now are we departid [i.e. parted] onto domys day.”