Robert Sidney/Sonnet 8

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Sonnet 8. “If that her worth I kowld as wel forget...” / “If that her worth I could as well forget...”]]
автор Robert Sidney (1563—1626)
Original text:


Sonnet 8

If that her worth I kowld as wel forget
as of my loue the haples lott I know
then to my wounded sowl, a meane might grow
wch if not health, yet some ease would beget.

But when I thinck I haue my quiet met
and that love foild yealds to his overthrow
the Idol of her beauties prowd doth show
vnto my thowghts, [wth] in beams wch neuer set

Summond by so greate truth, I must confes
that all what fayr, what good, what parfet is
all is in her, nothing in her doth miss

And now grief takes the place, love did possess
And all [loue] hopes dead, I lieu, to feel this sore
More that she worthy is, my loss the more.

1590s-1600s

Contemporary text:


Sonnet 8

If that her worth I could as well forget
As of my love the hapless lot I know,
Then to my wounded soul a mean might grow
Which if not health, yet some ease would beget.

But when I think I have my quiet met
And that love foiled yields to his overthrow,
The idol of her beauties proud doth show
Unto my thoughts, in beams which never set.

Summoned by so great truth, I must confess
That all what fair, what good, what perfect is,
All is in her, nothing in her doth miss:

And now grief takes the place love did possess
And all hopes dead, I live to feel this sore—
More that she worthy is, my loss the more.

1590s-1600s


Notes


См. также / See also