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Original text:
Sonnet. 17
The endless Alchymist, wth blinded will
that feedes his thowghts wth hopes, his hopes on showes
and more his worck proues vaine more eagre growes
whyle dreames of golde, his head wth shadowes fill
Feeles not more sure the scourg of flattring skill
when in fals trust of wealth true need hee knowes
then I, on whome, a storme of losses blowes
and tydes of errors run: yet saile on still
whyle my corrupted sense, doth thinck it sees
the long sowght land of rest: and whyle to bliss
I thinck there is a [cours] way, thogh yet I miss.
Thus [fearing] shuning to haue lost, I still doe lees
and hope and want: and striue and faile: and proue
Nor end [from] wth [pains] ioies, nor end [wth ioies] from cares in loue
1590s-1600s
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Contemporary text:
Sonnet 17
The endless alchemist, with blinded will,
That feeds his thoughts with hopes, his hopes on shows,
And more his work proves vain more eager grows
While dreams of gold, his head with shadows fill,
Feels not more sure the scourge of flatt'ring skill,
When in false trust of wealth true need he knows,
Then I, on whom, a storm of losses blows
And tides of errors run: yet sail on still
While my corrupted sense, doth think it sees
The long sought land of rest: and while to bliss
I think there is a way, though yet I miss.
Thus shunning to have lost, I still do leese,
And hope and want: and strive and fail: and prove
Nor end with joys, nor end from cares in love.
1590s-1600s
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Notes
11 way] cours 1. 12 shuning] fearing I. 14 wth ioies, nor end from cares] from paines [then cares], nor end wth ioies
См. также / See also
