Matthew Prior (Мэтью Прайор)

On My Birthday, July 21

I, MY dear, was born to-day--
So all my jolly comrades say:
They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,
And ask to celebrate my birth:
Little, alas! my comrades know
That I was born to pain and woe;
To thy denial, to thy scorn,
Better I had ne'er been born:
I wish to die, even whilst I say--
'I, my dear, was born to-day.'
I, my dear, was born to-day:
Shall I salute the rising ray,
Well-spring of all my joy and woe?
Clotilda, thou alone dost know.
Shall the wreath surround my hair?
Or shall the music please my ear?
Shall I my comrades' mirth receive,
And bless my birth, and wish to live?
Then let me see great Venus chase
Imperious anger from thy face;
Then let me hear thee smiling say--
'Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.' 

1. An Ode - Presented to the King, on His Majesty's Arrival in Holland, after the Queen's Death
2. If Wine and Music Have the Power
3. A Song (In vain you tell your parting lover)
4. An Ode - Inscribed to the Memory of the Hon. Colonel George Villiers
5. Seeing the Duke of Ormond's Picture, at Sir Godfrey Kneller's

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1366

Последние стихотворения

To English version