Embedded Files
Like as the waves make towards the pibled shore,
So do our minuites hasten to their end,
Each chnaging place with that which goes before,
In frequent toile all forwards do contend.
Nativity once in the maine of light,
Crawles to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses gainst his glory fight,
And time that gave, doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfixe the florish set on youth,
And delves the paralels in beauties brow,
Feedes on the rarities of natures truth,
And nothing stands but for his sieth to mow.
And yet to time in hope, my verse shall stand
Praising thy worth, dispight his cruell hand.
Commentary
Commentary
Address on time to his beloved
Address on time to his beloved
In the first quatrain, the poet remarks that time is like the waves of the ocean arriving at a pebbled (pibled) shore, one replacing another.
In the second quatrain, the poet observes that once a person is born (nativity once in the maine of light), he grows towards maturity, but no sooner there than bad things (crooked eclipses) begin to befall, and time, the original giver of life, now proceeds to take life away (his gift confound).
In the third quatrain, the poet enumerates the ill effects of time: it halts (transfixe) the bloom of youth, it creates furrows (delves paralels) in youth's brow, it eats up the good things of life (feedes on the rarities of natures truth), and everything left standing is cut down by its scythe (stands but for his sieth to mow).
In the final couplet, the poet hopes that his verse will, nevertheless, withstand time.
Page updated
Google Sites
Report abuse