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Giles Fletcher the Elder (Джайлз Флетчер Старший) Licia Sonnets 24 When as my love lay sickly in her bed, Pale death did post in hope to have a prey; But she so spotless made him that he fled; "Unmeet to die," she cried, and could not stay. Back he retired, and thus the heavens he told; "All things that are, are subject unto me, Both towns, and men, and what the world doth hold; But her fair Licia still immortal be." The heavens did grant; a goddess she was made, Immortal, fair, unfit to suffer change. So now she lives, and never more shall fade; In earth a goddess, what can be more strange? Then will I hope, a goddess and so near, She cannot choose my sighs and prayers but hear. Giles Fletcher the Elder's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1269 |
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