Arcadia. Sir Philip Sidney

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Название Arcadia
Автор произведения Sir Philip Sidney
Жанр Современная зарубежная литература
Серия Renaissance and Medieval Studies
Издательство Современная зарубежная литература
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781602358614



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blow.

      She, quick and proud, and who did Pas despise,

      up with her fist, and took him on the face.

      Another time, quoth she, become more wise.

      Thus Pas did kiss her hand with little grace,

      and each way luckless, yet in humble guise,

      did hold her fast for fear of more disgrace,

      while Strephon might with pretty Nous have met,

      For as Urania after Cosma ran,

      he, ravishèd with sight how gracefully

      she moved her limbs and drew the agèd man,

      left Nous, to coast the lovèd beauty nigh.

      Nous cried and chased, but he no other can

      till Uran, seeing Pas to Cosma fly,

      and Strephon single, turnèd after him.

      Strephon, so chased, did seem in milk to swim.

      He ran, but ran with eye o’er shoulder cast,

      more marking her than how himself did go,

      like Numid lions by the hunters chased—

      with proud aspect, disdaining greatest haste:

      What rage in them, that love in him did show.

      But God gives them instinct the man to shun,

      and he by law of Barley-Break must run.

      But as his heat with running did augment,

      much more his sight increased his hot desire.

      So is in her the best of nature spent;

      the air her sweet race moved doth blow the fire.

      with whose fine steps all loves and joys conspire.

      The hidden beauties seemed in wait to lie

      to down proud hearts that would not willing die.

      Thus fast he fled from her he followed sore,

      still shunning Nous to lengthen pleasing race,

      till that he spied old Geron could no more.

      Then did he slack his love-instructed pace

      so that Urán, whose arm old Geron bore,

      laid hold on him with most lay-holding grace.

      So caught, him seemed he caught of joys the bell

      and thought it heaven so to be drawn to hell.

      Third Round

      Pas & Cosma Strephon & Nous Geron & Urania

      To hell he goes, and Nous with him must dwell.

      Nous swore it was not right—for his default

      who would be caught—that she should go to hell.

      But so she must. And now the third assault

      of Barley-Break among the six befell.

      Pas Cosma matched, yet angry with his fault.

      The other end Geron with Uran guard.

      I think you think Strephon bent thitherward.

      Nous counseled Strephon Geron to pursue,

      for he was old and easy would be caught.

      But he drew her as love his fancy drew,

      and so to take the gem Urania sought,

      while Geron old came safe to Cosma true,

      though him to meet at all she stirrèd nought.

      For Pas, whether it were for fear or love,

      moved not himself, nor suffered her to move.

      So they three did together idly stay,

      while dear Urán, whose course was Pas to meet,

      (he staying thus) was fain abroad to stray

      with larger round, to shun the following feet.

      Strephon, whose eyes on her back-parts did play,

      with love drawn on, so fast with pace unmeet

      drew dainty Nous, that she, not able so

      He single thus, hoped soon with her to be,

      who nothing earthly, but of fire and air,

      though with soft legs, did run as fast as he.

      He thrice reached, thrice deceived, when her to bear

      he hopes, with dainty turns she does him flee.

      So on the downs we see, near Wilton fair,

      a hastened hare from greedy greyhound go,

      and past all hope his chaps to frustrate so.

      But this strange race more strange conceits did yield:

      Who seemed o’er thrown was mistress of the field.

      She fled, and took. He followed, and was caught.

      So have I heard, to pierce pursuing shield,

      by parents trained, the Tartars wild are taught

      with shafts shot out from their back-turnèd bow.

      As Venus’ bird, the white, swift, lovely dove

      (ô happy doves that are compared to her!)

      does on her wings her utmost swiftness prove,

      finding the grip of falcon fierce not far,

      (yet beauty still as fast as she did stir)

      till with long race, dear she was breathless brought,

      and then the Phoenix fearèd to be caught.

      Among the rest that there did take delight

      to see the sports of double-shining day,

      and did the tribute of their wondering sight

      to nature’s heir, the fair Urania, pay,

      I told you Claius was the hapless wight

      who earnest found what they accounted play.

      He did not there do homage of his eyes,

      but on his eyes his heart did sacrifice.

      With gazing looks, short sights, unsettled feet,

      His fancies still did her in half-way meet.

      His soul did fly as she was seen to run.

      (who Neptune’s web on danger’s distaff spun)

      with greater power than she did make them wend

      each way, as she (that ages praise) did bend—

      till, spying well she well nigh weary was,

      and surely taught by his