Michael Drayton (Майкл Дрейтон)

Sonnet 20. An Evil Spirit

An evil spirit, your beauty haunts me still,
Wherewith, alas, I have been long possest,
Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill,
Nor gives me once but one poor minute's rest;
In me it speaks, whether I sleep or wake,
And when by means to drive it out I try,
With greater torments then it me doth take,
And tortures me in most extremity;
Before my face it lays down my despairs,
And hastes me on unto a sudden death,
Now tempting me to drown myself in tears,
And then in sighing to give up my breath.
    Thus am I still provok'd to every evil 
    By this good wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil.

1. Sonnet 37. Dear, why should You Command Me to My Rest
2. Sonnet 16. Mongst all the Creatures in this Spacious Round
3. Sonnet 48. Cupid, I Hate thee
4. Sonnet 9. As Other Men
5. Sonnet 18. To this our World

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1478

Последние стихотворения

To English version