The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw, Volume IICrashaw, Richard
General
The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw, Volume II
Crashaw, Richard
English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700
Bethink thee whilst thou'rt yet in Time. G.
ELEGIA.[100]
Ite, meae lacrymae, nec enim moror, ite; sed oro
Tantum ne miserae claudite vocis iter.
O liceat querulos verbis animare dolores,
Et saltem 'Ah periit!' dicere noster amor.
Ecce negant tamen; ecce negant, lacrymaeque rebelles
Pergunt indomita praecipitantque via.
Visne, ô care, igitur te nostra silentia dicant?
Vis fleat assiduo murmure mutus amor?
Flebit, et urna suos semper bibet humida rores,
Et fidas semper semper habebit aquas.
Interea, quicunque estis, ne credite mirum
Si verae lacrymae non didicere loqui.
TRANSLATION.
ELEGY.
Flow, flow, my tears; I stay you not; but pray
To my unhappy voice close not the way.
My plaintive griefs with words, O let me move;
To say, 'Alas, he died!' allow my love.
Lo, they say, no--the rebel tears say, no!
And with unconquer'd headlong torrent flow.
Wouldst thou, O dear one, that our silence speak?
Mute love with ceaseless sob moisten our cheek?
It shall; and still thine urn drink its own dews,
And never its own faithful waters lose.
Meanwhile let no one think a wonder wrought,
If real tears to speak could not be taught. R. WI.
THESAURUS MALORUM FOEMINA.
Quis deus, ô quis erat, qui te, mala foemina, finxit?
Proh, crimen superum, noxa pudenda deum!
Quae divum manus est adeo non dextera mundo?
In nostras clades ingeniosa manus:
Parcite; peccavi: nec enim pia numina possunt
Tam crudele semel vel voluisse nefas.
Vestrum opus est pietas; opus est concordia vestrum;
Vos equidem tales haud reor artifices.
Heus, inferna cohors, foetus cognoscite vestros.
Num pudet hanc vestrum vincere posse scelus?
Plaudite Tartarei proceres Erebique potentes,
Nae mirum est tantum vos potuisse malum;
Jam vestras laudate manus. Si forte tacetis,
Artificum laudes grande loquetur opus.
Quam bene vos omnes speculo contemplor in isto?
Pectus in angustum cogitur omne malum.
Quin dormi, Pluto; rabidas compesce sorores;
Jam non poscit opem nostra ruina tuam.
Haec satis in nostros fabricata est machina muros,
Mortales furias Tartara nostra dabunt.
TRANSLATION.
WOMAN A TREASURY OF EVILS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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