Здравствуйте, Пётр!
Хью Холланд известен, как автор вступительного сонета в шекспировском Первом фолио (1623):

“Upon the Lines and Life of the Famous Scenic Poet, Master William Shakespeare”
by Hugh Holland

Those hands, which you so clapped, go now, and wring
You Britain’s brave; for done are Shakespeare’s days.
His days are done, that made the dainty plays,
Which made the Globe of heav'n and earth to ring.

Dried is that vein, dried is the Thespian Spring,
Turned all to tears, and Phoebus clouds his rays.
That corpse, that coffin, now bestick those bays,
Which crowned him poet first, then poets’ king.

If tragedies might any prologue have,
All those he made, would scarce make a one to this;
Where fame, now that he gone is to the grave
(Deaths public tiring-house), the nuncius is.

For though his line of life went soon about,
The life yet of his lines shall never out.

***

Другие его стихотворения можно найти на сайте:
http://philological.cal.bham.ac.uk/holland/poems.html

Продолжение следует.
С уважением,
И. Кант

Ирина Кант 00   03.05.2023 03:47   Заявить о нарушении

Один из университетских умов, друг Бена Джонсона Ричард Мартин был автором «различных стихотворений», которые не дошли до нас. См. Anthony à Wood “ Athenae Oxonienses” (1691-1692). Но один сонет Ричарда Мартина у меня есть. Это его посвящение Томасу Кориэту в «Кориэтовых Нелепостях» (1611).
[“Coryat’s Crudities”, Glasgow, printed at The University Press by Robert Maclehose & Company Ltd. For James Maclehose And Sons, 1905, v.1, p.39.]

To my friend that by lying at the signe of the Richard
Fox doth prove himselfe no Goose, Thomas
Coryate, the Traveller, a Sonet.

For a bonny blith and bounsing ballet
To praise this Odcomb’d Chanti-cleere that hatched
These Crudities which (with his shoes) he patched,
All hitting right as it were with a mallet,

Before us here he sets both bag and wallet,
Where met are many scraps (you see) unmatched :
His feete, hands, head (daies and nights) walkt, wrote, watched :
And hardly did he lie on any pallet.

Much oyle he sav’d both from his shoes and sallats,
Which thriftily he ate while they were cobled ;
Then (for his fruite) these Crudities he gobled,
Which since he season d hath for sundry palats.

To him therefore vaile travellers your bonnets,
Of him write Poets all your Songs and Sonnets.

***
Всего вам доброго, Пётр!

Ирина Кант 00   03.05.2023 04:18   Заявить о нарушении

Огромное спасибо!

Сонетный Островок   03.05.2023 07:04   Заявить о нарушении