Bethink me not so vile, vile things own some good…

Bethink me not so vile, vile things own some good;

But slightest torch to it, lives new the dead-seeming wood:

Pretty flowers may spring from mason’d rocks;

Some secret charm in beasts degenerate lurks!

Foul as prowling Night and her cubs thou ‘steemeth me,

And so foul thou purpose break, ere I attaint thee:

But, lo, the sap gone, what tree lives; bawn breach’d, what city;

Nor Olympus rubbled, what Jove’s not come by beggary?

Like sap, bawn, Olympus, thou’rt to my life’s defence:

Pity me then for my life, wink at my brute sense.


Courage to men, resolution to rocks,

Speed deer, fangs beast, flight to fowls of the air,

Liberal Nature freely lends in distribution fair;

Yet her bias bewray’d is in this whilst she mocks

These numbwits blandish’d with scourings, that her favourite

Retains beauty and, in turn, command of the fleet!

Thou’rt that Nature’s minion, natural best;

But I the plebeian lickspittle of my pedigree;

Seeking thou approve me, by what matchless parley

From my shameful birth I mount, and ‘bove all others turn blest.

From my dumps so you raise me by as painless means

As quipsters at court, to ease the Throne at wartime, cheer dull kings!


And therein stands testament to that ancients say:

Grace no force exact’st, and wins fell battles by sway!


156 Total Views 4 Views Today

By Sydney Chesterfield on June 6, 2016 · Posted in Braindrops On Yellow Leaves, Literary, Poetry, Trends

Sorry, comments are closed on this post.