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The Lion of Chaeronea

@lionofchaeronea / lionofchaeronea.tumblr.com

A blog dedicated to classical antiquity, poetry, and the visual arts. All translations of Greek and Latin are my own unless otherwise noted.
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"What is our life?" -- Sir Walter Raleigh (1552?-1618)

What is our life? A play of passion, Our mirth the music of division; Our mothers' wombs the tiring houses be, Where we are dressed for this short comedy; Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is That sits and marks still who doth act amiss; Our graves that hide us from the searching sun Are like drawn curtains when the play is done. Thus march we playing to our latest rest -- Only we die in earnest, that's no jest.

The Boyhood of Raleigh, John Everett Millais, 1870

#literature#poem#poetry#lyric poem#lyric poetry#Sir Walter Raleigh#Sir Walter Ralegh#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#John Everett Millais
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"Queen and huntress, chaste and fair" (from "Cynthia's Revels") - Ben Jonson (1572-1637)

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wishéd sight, Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever: Thou that mak'st a day of night, Goddess excellently bright.

Diana, Goddess of the Hunt, Leaning Against a Tree, Pietro Antonio Rotari (1707-1762)

#poem#poetry#lyric poem#lyric poetry#Ben Jonson#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Pietro Antonio Rotari
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Sonnet 19 ("When I consider how my light is spent") - John Milton (1608-1674)

When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait."

Milton Dictating to His Daughter, Henry Fuseli, 1794

#poem#poetry#sonnet#Milton#John Milton#lyric poem#lyric poetry#Christian poetry#religious poetry#devotional poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Henry Fuseli#henry fuseli
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"The Mower to the Glow-Worms" - Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)

Ye living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does sit so late, And studying all the summer night, Her matchless songs does meditate;

Ye country comets, that portend No war nor prince’s funeral, Shining unto no higher end Than to presage the grass’s fall;

Ye glow-worms, whose officious flame To wand’ring mowers shows the way, That in the night have lost their aim, And after foolish fires do stray;

Your courteous lights in vain you waste, Since Juliana here is come, For she my mind hath so displac’d That I shall never find my home.

The Mower, Georges Seurat, 1881-82

#poem#poetry#Andrew Marvell#lyric poem#lyric poetry#love poem#love poetry#Metaphysical poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Seurat#Georges Seurat
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"Witchcraft by a Picture" - John Donne (1572-1631)

I fix mine eye on thine, and there Pity my picture burning in thine eye; My picture drown’d in a transparent tear, When I look lower I espy; Hadst thou the wicked skill By pictures made and marr’d, to kill, How many ways mightst thou perform thy will?

But now I’ve drunk thy sweet salt tears, And though thou pour more, I’ll depart; My picture vanished, vanish all fears That I can be endamaged by that art; Though thou retain of me One picture more, yet that will be, Being in thine own heart, from all malice free.

A Witch, Salvator Rosa, 1646

#poem#poetry#John Donne#love poem#love poetry#metaphysical poetry#lyric poem#lyric poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#English literature#English poetry#Salvator Rosa
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"A Beautiful Mistress" - Thomas Carew (?1595-?1639)

If, when the sun at noon displays His brighter rays, Thou but appear, He then, all pale with shame and fear, Quencheth his light, Hides his dark brow, flies from thy sight, And grows more dim, Compar'd to thee, than stars to him. If thou but show thy face again, When darkness doth at midnight reign, The darkness flies, and light is hurl'd Round about the silent world: So as alike thou driv'st away Both light and darkness, night and day.

Portrait of a Young Woman, Domenico Ghirlandaio, ca. 1490

#poem#poetry#Thomas Carew#lyric poem#lyric poetry#love poem#love poetry#Cavalier poets#17th century literature#17th century poetry#English literature#English poetry#Domenico Ghirlandaio
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"His Cavalier" - Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

Give me that man, that dares bestride The active sea-horse, & with pride, Through that huge field of waters ride: Who, with his looks too, can appease The ruffling winds and raging seas, In midst of all their outrages. This, this a virtuous man can do, Sail against rocks, and split them too: Ay! and a world of pikes pass through.

Horses Coming Out of the Sea, Eugène Delacroix, 1860

#poem#poetry#Robert Herrick#lyric poem#lyric poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Delacroix#Eugene Delacroix#art history
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"Song on May Morning" - John Milton (1608-1674)

Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth, and warm desire, Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing, Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early Song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

Idyll in Spring, Edward Atkinson Hornel, 1905

#poem#poetry#Milton#John Milton#lyric poem#lyric poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Edward Atkinson Hornel
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“Even Such Is Time” - Sir Walter Raleigh (1552?-1618)

Even such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age and dust; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days. But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust.

Time, Death, and Judgment, George Frederick Watts, 1866

#poem#poetry#Sir Walter Raleigh#epigram#epitaph#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#George Frederick Watts
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“The Morning-Watch” - Henry Vaughan (1621-1695)

O joys! infinite sweetness! with what flow’rs And shoots of glory my soul breaks and buds! All the long hours Of night, and rest, Through the still shrouds Of sleep, and clouds, This dew fell on my breast; Oh, how it bloods And spirits all my earth! Hark! In what rings And hymning circulations the quick world Awakes and sings; The rising winds And falling springs, Birds, beasts, all things Adore Him in their kinds. Thus all is hurl’d In sacred hymns and order, the great chime And symphony of nature. Prayer is The world in tune, A spirit voice, And vocal joys Whose echo is heav’n’s bliss. O let me climb When I lie down! The pious soul by night Is like a clouded star whose beams, though said To shed their light Under some cloud, Yet are above, And shine and move Beyond that misty shroud. So in my bed, That curtain’d grave, though sleep, like ashes, hide My lamp and life, both shall in Thee abide.

Morning at Grand Manan, Alfred Thompson Bricher, 1878

#poem#poetry#Henry Vaughan#lyric poem#lyric poetry#religious poem#religious poetry#Christian poem#Christian poetry#devotional poem#devotional poetry#Welsh literature#Welsh poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Alfred Thompson Bricher
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“Redemption” - George Herbert (1593-1633)

Having been tenant long to a rich lord,    Not thriving, I resolvèd to be bold,    And make a suit unto him, to afford A new small-rented lease, and cancel th’ old. In heaven at his manor I him sought;    They told me there that he was lately gone    About some land, which he had dearly bought Long since on earth, to take possessiòn. I straight returned, and knowing his great birth,    Sought him accordingly in great resorts;    In cities, theaters, gardens, parks, and courts; At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth            Of thieves and murderers; there I him espied,    Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died.

Christ as Savior, Geronimo de Bobadilla, 2nd half of 16th century

#poem#poetry#George Herbert#sonnet#lyric poem#lyric poetry#religious poem#religious poetry#Christian poem#Christian poetry#devotional poem#devotional poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Metaphysical poetry#Geronimo de Bobadilla#Jeronimo de Bobadilla
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Sonnet 23 (”Methought I saw my late espoused saint”) - John Milton (1608-1674)

Methought I saw my late espoused saint       Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,       Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,       Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and faint. Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint       Purification in the old Law did save,       And such as yet once more I trust to have       Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind;       Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight       Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd So clear as in no face with more delight.       But Oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd,       I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

Aino Ackté as Alcestis on the Banks of the Styx, Role Portrait, Albert Edelfelt, 1902

#poem#poetry#Milton#John Milton#sonnet#lyric poem#lyric poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Albert Edelfelt
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“Prayer (I)” - George Herbert (1593-1633)

Prayer the church's banquet, angel's age, God's breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage, The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth; Engine against th' Almighty, sinner's tow'r, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, The six-days world transposing in an hour, A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear; Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss, Exalted manna, gladness of the best, Heaven in ordinary, man well drest, The milky way, the bird of Paradise, Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood, The land of spices; something understood.

The Evening Prayer, Pierre Édouard Frère, 1857  

#poem#poetry#George Herbert#lyric poem#lyric poetry#sonnet#devotional poem#devotional poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Metaphysical poetry#Pierre Edouard Frere
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“Death, Be Not Proud” (Holy Sonnet X) - John Donne (1571-1631)

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Christ Triumphing over Death and Sin, Peter Paul Rubens, ca. 1615-16

#poem#poetry#Donne#John Donne#sonnet#lyric poem#lyric poetry#religious poetry#Metaphysical poetry#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Rubens#Peter Paul Rubens
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“Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren” - John Webster (ca. 1580-ca. 1632)

Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren, Since o’er shadie groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers doe cover The friendlesse bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funerall Dole The Ante, the field-mouse, and the mole To reare him hillockes, that shall keepe him warme, And (when gay tombes are robb’d) sustaine no harme, But keepe the wolfe far thence, that’s foe to men, For with his nailes he’ll dig them up agen.

European Robin, Ferdinand von Wright, 1830

#poem#poetry#John Webster#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Jacobean literature#jacobean poetry#Ferdinand von Wright#death tw
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“Peace” - Henry Vaughan (1621-1695)

My Soul, there is a country Afar beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry All skillful in the wars; There, above noise and danger Sweet Peace sits, crown’d with smiles, And One born in a manger Commands the beauteous files. He is thy gracious friend And (O my Soul awake!) Did in pure love descend, To die here for thy sake. If thou canst get but thither, There grows the flow’r of peace, The rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress, and thy ease. Leave then thy foolish ranges, For none can thee secure, But One, who never changes, Thy God, thy life, thy cure.

Peace at Sunset (Evening in the White Mountains), Thomas Cole, 1827

#poem#poetry#Henry Vaughan#Welsh poetry#Metaphysical poetry#17th century literature#17th century poetry#Thomas Cole
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“To Daffodils”- Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attain'd his noon.      Stay, stay, Until the hasting day      Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay, As you, or anything.      We die As your hours do, and dry      Away, Like to the summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.

Arranging Daffodils, Carl Thomsen, 1894

#poem#poetry#Robert Herrick#lyric poetry#daffodils#British literature#English literature#English poetry#17th century literature#Carl Thomsen
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