THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE A POEM BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE The Phoenix and the Turtle Let the bird of loudest lay On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey. But thou shrieking harbinger, Foul precurrer of the fiend, Augur of the fevers end, To this troop come thou not near. From this session interdict Every fowl of tyrant wing Save the eagle, featherd king: Keep the obsequy so strict. Let the priest in surplice white That defunctive music can, Be the death-divining swan, Lest the requiem lack his right. And thou, treble-dated crow, That thy sable gender makst With the breath thou givst and takst, Mongst our mourners shalt thou go. Here the anthem doth commence:— Love and constancy is dead; Phoenix and the turtle fled In a mutual flame from hence. So they loved, as love in twain Had the essence but in one; Two distincts, division none; Number there in love was slain. Hearts remote, yet not asunder; Distance, and no space was seen Twixt the turtle and his queen: But in them it were a wonder. So between them love did shine, That the turtle saw his right Flaming in the phoenix sight; Either was the others mine. Property was thus appalld, That the self was not the same; Single natures double name Neither two nor one was calld. Reason, in itself confounded, Saw division grow together; To themselves yet either neither; Simple were so well compounded, That it cried, How true a twain Seemeth this concordant one! Love hath reason, reason none If what parts can so remain. Whereupon it made this threne To the phoenix and the dove, Co-supremes and stars of love, As chorus to their tragic scene. THRENOS BEAUTY, truth, and rarity, Grace in all simplicity, Here enclosed in cinders lie. Death is now the phoenix nest; And the turtles loyal breast To eternity doth rest, Leaving no posterity: Twas not their infirmity, It was married chastity. Truth may seem, but cannot be; Beauty brag, but tis not she; Truth and beauty buried be. To this urn let those repair That are either true or fair; For these dead birds sigh a prayer. THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE A POEM BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Posted on: Sat, 20 Dec 2014 13:58:55 +0000
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