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Original text:
Sonnet 7
The hardy Captein, vnused to retyre
turns and returns to the to wel kept place
where wound to wound disgrace upon disgrace
He takes, while wil and power gainst him conspire
Scorn of repuls, of loss the stinging fyre
his hart wth greefe doth fill, wth shame his face
But no force finding way, wth heauy pace
forsake hee doth, his il blest fayre desyre
Wth equal care, but wth an ende more hy
I sowght to win the kingdome seate of loue,
Beauties best treasure, praise of victory
But scornd, repulst, hartbroken I remoue
reaping loss for desert, for loue contempt
And greef and shame for so dear foild attempt.
1590s-1600s
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Contemporary text:
Sonnet 7
The hardy captain, unused to retire,
Turns and returns to the too-well-kept place
Where wound to wound, disgrace upon disgrace
He takes, while will and power ‘gainst him conspire:
Scorn of repulse, of loss the stinging fire,
His heart with grief doth fill, with shame his face
But no force finding way, with heavy pace
Forsake he doth his ill-blest fair desire.
With equal care, but with an end more high,
I sought to win the kingdom seat of love,
Beauty’s best treasure, praise of victory:
But scorned, repulsed, heartbroken I remove,
Reaping loss for desert, for love contempt,
And grief and shame for so dear foiled attempt.
1590s-1600s
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Notes
См. также / See also
