Buon onomastico ed eccovi una poesia di Lady Mary Wroth (poetessa rinascimentale inglese) che ho trovato per puro caso mentre cercavo delle poesie da copiare nell'altro topic. Ditemi se non capita a fagiolo! [:D]


"Sweet Silvia in a shady wood"

Sweet Silvia in a shady wood,
With her faire Nimphs layd downe,
Saw not farre off where Cupid stood,
The Monarch of Loves Crowne,
All naked, playing with his wings,
Within a Mirtle Tree,
Which sight a sudden laughter brings,
His Godhead so to see.

An fondly they began to jest,
With scoffing, and delight, 10
Not knowing he did breed unrest,
And that his will's his right:
When he perceiving of their scorne,
Grew in such desperate rage,
Who but for honour first was borne,
Could not his rage asswage.

Till shooting of his murth'ring dart,
Which not long lighting was,
Knowing the next way to the heart,
Did through a poore Nymph passe: 20
This shot the others made to bow,
Besides all those to blame,
Who scorners be, or not allow
Of powerfull Cupid's name.

Take heede then nor doe idly smile,
Nor Loves commands despise,
For soone will be your strength beguile,
Although he want his eyes.