On Lucy, Countess of Bedford

From Immortal Poetry
Jump to: navigation, search

This morning timely wrapt with holy fire,
I thought to form unto my zealous Muse,
What kind of creature I could most desire
To know, serve, and love, as Poets use.
I meant to make her fair, and free, and wise,
Of greatest blood, and yet more good than great;
I meant the day-star should not brighter rise,
Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat;
I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet,
Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride;
I meant each softest virtue there should meet,
Fit in that softer bosom to reside.
Only a learned, and a manly soul
I purposed her: that should with even powers,
The rock, the spindle, and the shears control
Of Destiny, and spin her own free hours.
Such when I meant to feign, and wished to see,
My Muse bade Bedford write, and that was she!

by Ben Johnson.

Personal tools
Categories
topics
poems by decade
seasons
users
Languages

Print
Printer friendly version

IPv6

Search:

Poetry index | Random poem | Author index | Norwegian version | Swedish version