Rignaide

Two Poems by Queen Elizabeth I

2009-02-18T17:50:00.003+05:30

On Monsieur's Departure

I grieve and dare not show my discontent,

I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,

I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,

I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.

I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,

Since from myself another self I turned.

My care is like my shadow in the sun,

Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,

Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.

His too familiar care doth make me rue it.

No means I find to rid him from my breast,

Till by the end of things it be supprest.

Some gentler passion slide into my mind,

For I am soft and made of melting snow;

be more cruel, love, and so be kind.

Let me or float or sink, be high or low.

Or let me live with some more sweet content,

Or die and so forget what love ere meant.

Queen Elizabeth's most famous, and perhaps most accomplished, poem. It is popularly known as "On Monsieur's Departure", but there is no evidence to connect it with the departure from England of the Queen's last political suitor, Francis, Duke of Alencon.

Now Leave And Let Me Rest

Now leave and let me rest. Dame Pleasure, be content-

Go choose among the best; my doting days be spent.

By sundry signs I see thy proffers are but vain,

And wisdom warneth me that pleasure asketh pain;

And Nature that doth know how time her steps doth try,

Gives place to painful woe, and bids me learn to die.

Since all fair earthly things, soon ripe, will soon be rot

And all that pleasant springs, soon withered, soon forgot,

And youth that yields men joys that wanton lust

In age repents the toys that reckless youth requires.

All which delights I leave to such as folly trains

By pleasures to deceive, till they do feel the pains.

And from vain pleasures past I fly, and fain would know

The happy life at last whereto I hope to go.

For words or wise reports ne yet examples gone

'Gan bridle youthful sports, till age came stealing on.

The pleasant courtly games that I do pleasure in,

My elder years now shames such folly to begin.

And all the fancies strange that fond delight brought forth

I do intend to change, and count them nothing worth.

For I by proffers vain am taught to know the skill

What might have been forborne in my young reckless will;

By which good proof I fleet from will to wit again,

In hope to set my feet in surety to remain.

The Queen's Rival

2009-02-18T17:33:00.003+05:30

QUEEN GULNAAR sat on her ivory bed,

Around her countless treasures were spread;

Her chamber walls were richly inlaid With agate, porphory, onyx and jade;

The tissues that veiled her delicate breast, Glowed with the hues of a lapwing's crest;

But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."

King Feroz bent from his ebony seat: "Is thy least desire unfulfilled, O Sweet?

"Let thy mouth speak and my life be spent To clear the sky of thy discontent."

"I tire of my beauty, I tire of this Empty splendour and shadowless bliss;

"With none to envy and none gainsay, No savour or salt hath my dream or day."

Queen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose: "Give me a rival, O King Feroz."

King Feroz spoke to his Chief Vizier: "Lo! ere to-morrow's dawn be here,

"Send forth my messengers over the sea, To seek seven beautiful brides for me;

"Radiant of feature and regal of mien, Seven handmaids meet for the Persian Queen." . . . . .

Seven new moon tides at the Vesper call,

King Feroz led to Queen Gulnaar's hall

A young queen eyed like the morning star:

"I bring thee a rival, O Queen Gulnaar."

But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed:

"O King, my heart is unsatisfied."

Seven queens shone round her ivory bed, Like seven soft gems on a silken thread,

Like seven fair lamps in a royal tower, Like seven bright petals of Beauty's flower

Queen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose "Where is my rival, O King Feroz?"

III

When spring winds wakened the mountain floods, And kindled the flame of the tulip buds,

When bees grew loud and the days grew long, And the peach groves thrilled to the oriole's song,

Queen Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed, Decking with jewels her exquisite head;

And still she gazed in her mirror and sighed: "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."

Queen Gulnsar's daughter two spring times old, In blue robes bordered with tassels of gold,

Ran to her knee like a wildwood fay, And plucked from her hand the mirror away.

Quickly she set on her own light curls Her mother's fillet with fringes of pearls;

Quickly she turned with a child's caprice And pressed on the mirror a swift, glad kiss.

Queen Gulnaar laughed like a tremulous rose: "Here is my rival, O King Feroz."

Sarojini Naidu

Letter to Gargi

2008-04-03T13:30:00.001+05:30

Ah, ancient mother

up creeps the cold on red leaves

will fade like lipstick you never knew.

But your tongue was red, Gargi

your breath hot.

I owe you nothing except the arrows

you gave me for the Brahmin-Academy.

Now as then cold creeps up.

The literary critic,

the academy-writer and the baker

all hustle for the warmth:

Men learn from women - you were the best.

Remember that ancient time?

Yagnavalkya put his tail between his teeth-

and begged for PEACE...

Even King Janaka taught the priests until they

concocted rules,

Cast these out as the words of god: at the tip sits a

Brahmin! All the while you knew

not only Brahmins knew they alone did not know...

These days Gargi, ashrams become university chairs

and daughters think of tenure

more dogmatic than old brahmins

more formalised than caste

more accepted...

Quickly send me that tongue to keep me warm

in the coming cold. I can sharpen arrowheads

for Yagnavalkya

And we can laugh when he pleads our health -

He put his tail between his teeth:

"If you ask too many questions your head will burst!"

Whose head Gargi, whose head?

Your bastard son

who needs your tongue?

By Sasenarine Persaud

Earth Hour- 8 days and counting

2008-03-24T10:30:00.001+05:30

Join me in this endeavour, visit my website below:

http://www.earthhour.org/user/KJIh

Helen's Lament

2008-03-12T12:29:00.001+05:30

How Was I To Know?

I only followed my heart, the dart
of Cupid, that sparked a fire,
the flaming awakening of desire,
so long dead in this foundering
union, with Menelaus, my spouse,
who never could arouse
my love.

Not long before
I knew adoration,
the fascination of our nation,
of men who saw in me
a beauty I could never feel.
Inside, a wild Aphrodite
cried to live with passion,
to be real.

How was I to know
that I'd be captive -
mother, wife, compelled
to give, to live for others,
receiving wealth
from kings and princes,
but losing myself?

How was I to know that
yearning for life,
that touching my lips
to Paris's lips
would launch the ships,
would cause such burning,
death, loss, strife?

How was I to know
that if I fled, to soar
the sky, breathe Aphrodite's air,
and fly on Cupid's wings,
that men would die?

How was I to know
that I'd be wooed,
pursued, acclaimed,
then later booed?
That waking to Paris,
to mutual gain,
would bring such pain?

That what I lost
when I left Greece
would cost such a price,
would brand me a whore,
would cause such a war?
How was I to know?

How was I to know
that to surrender to caring
would render me victim
to years of despairing,
that to shun the ways
of Spartan wives
would mean that men
would lose their lives?

How was I to know
I would feel such shame,
receive such blame,
and forever regret
that I ever met
young Paris of Troy?

How was I to know?

A Song of the Princess

2008-03-12T12:18:00.002+05:30

The princess has her lovers,
A score of knights has she,
And each can sing a madrigal,
And praise her gracefully.

But Love that is so bitter
Hath put within her heart
A longing for the scornful knight
Who silent stands apart.

And tho' the others praise and plead,
She maketh no reply,
Yet for a single word from him,
I ween that she would die.

Sara Teasdale

Queen Guinevere

2008-03-12T12:10:00.003+05:30

After all the corridors are darkened
When the royal crown is off your head
To your chambers I will creep not a word we will speak
Just love me while the fire light dances ’round the bed

Well there is danger in this passion
Because the king can never never know
And on my blood I’ve sworn my allegiance
So I’ll leave you when the sunlight comes and beckons me to go

And the silver shine is tarnished from my armor
And in battle I am paralyzed with fear
And this poison in my soul is the love we’ll never know
And it finds me playing Lancelot to your Guinevere

Well and guinevere is sly enough to steal a little taste
And her laughter it peals into the night
Oh but forbidden fruit always stays sticky on your face
And without virtue I’m worthless in a fight

Stealing little glances at the table
I feel that this is theatre in the round
But far away chasing s in the meadow
Your love like wind, blows right by and sweeps me off the ground
Your love sweeps me off the ground
Well now it sweeps me off the the ground

And the silver shine is tarnished from my armor
And in battle I am paralyzed with fear
And this poison in my soul is the love we’ll never know
And it finds me playing Lancelot to your Guinevere

Edwin McCain

2008-03-12T11:50:00.001+05:30

Age seizes my skin and turns my hair
From black to white:
My knees no longer bear me
And I am unable to dance again
Like a fawn.

What could I do? I am not ageless:
My youth is gone.
Red-robed Dawn, immortal goddess,
Carried [ Tithonus ] to earth's end
Yet age siezed him
Despite the gift from his immortal lover ....

I love delicate softness:
For me, love has brought the brightness
And the beauty of the sun ....

Sappho: Fragment 58

Queen of Sheba

2008-03-12T10:24:00.002+05:30

Come back little Sheba
I hear them calling
Open your ears
Awake from thy sleep
High above
The stars are falling
Open your arms
And you shall receive

The lights of the city
So bold and flashing
All of its riches
Imparted to thee
Robes of saffron
Robes of standing
A road of crimson
Spread at your feet

Your robes of standing
Your robes of saffron
Your road of crimson
All pleasing to me
But close your lights
Close your gates
I must arise
My flock awaits

Farewell little Sheba
I hear them a'calling
Here is your staff
Tend to thy sheep
Good wishes be with you
If that be your calling
Farewell little Sheba

Arise and take leave