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<p><head>Thren VII by Joh Kochanowski</head></p> | |||
<p>Sorrowful ornaments <add>garments,</add> grief awakening dresses<lb/> | |||
of my lovely – lovely child!<lb/> | |||
Wherefore do you attract my grieving eyes<lb/> | |||
You only aid to my woe.<lb/> | |||
No more she will array herself in you<lb/> | |||
There is no hope, – none!<lb/> | |||
A sleep, – a hard – an iron sleep has seized her<lb/> | |||
A sleep interminable (<del>and</del> <add>or</add> never to be unsleeped)<lb/> | |||
Thy <gap/> robe<lb/> | |||
Thy <unclear>navery</unclear> <unclear>rebands</unclear> are useless – and thy golden belt <add>useless</add> | |||
The fond presents of my mother unavailing<lb/> | |||
Not to such a brides bed, my lovely maid,<lb/> | |||
Thy <add>poor</add> mother thought to lead the<lb/> | |||
Not a <unclear>dower</unclear> like this which she has given, <add><del>that</del></add><lb/> | |||
Did she intend for thee<lb/> | |||
She gave thee only a little shroud, – only a little case<lb/> | |||
And thy father placed a little ball of earth<hi rend="superscript">x</hi> <note><hi rend="superscript">x</hi> Annual custom in Poland to put <add>in the coffin</add> at the head of the dead a piece of earth.</note><lb/> | |||
At thy head. Alas! Thou and thy dower – | |||
All shall age in a <add>dark</add> narrow chamber.</p> | |||
<p><note>The poet laments the death of his daughter in 19 Threns. I give you only 3 of them as specimens and had great difficulty in translating them, since they are <unclear>improper</unclear> as it were of <hi rend="underline">accords</hi> of sighs, and of <del>heartfelt</del> grief. Particularly the number of diminutives <del>made of</del> common in our language made it untranslatable. <del>I often rememb</del> If you should like to transfuse it into <del>you</del> the English; <del>thank</del> mind <del>th</del> the Latin <hi rend="underline"><foreign>Animula blandula vagular</foreign></hi>; or <del>as</del> Petrarch's <add>love</add> stanzas. The daughter <add>when she died</add> was a child of only 30 months. <del>The</del> The father describes her as a superior being to her age in talents and amiability: and the hope of what she might have been in future, <del>makes</del> his sorrow intense. The 13th Thren is very good too.</note></p> | |||
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{{Metadata:{{PAGENAME}}}} | {{Metadata:{{PAGENAME}}}}{{Completed}} |
Thren VII by Joh Kochanowski
Sorrowful ornaments garments, grief awakening dresses
of my lovely – lovely child!
Wherefore do you attract my grieving eyes
You only aid to my woe.
No more she will array herself in you
There is no hope, – none!
A sleep, – a hard – an iron sleep has seized her
A sleep interminable (and or never to be unsleeped)
Thy robe
Thy navery rebands are useless – and thy golden belt useless
The fond presents of my mother unavailing
Not to such a brides bed, my lovely maid,
Thy poor mother thought to lead the
Not a dower like this which she has given, that
Did she intend for thee
She gave thee only a little shroud, – only a little case
And thy father placed a little ball of earthx x Annual custom in Poland to put in the coffin at the head of the dead a piece of earth.
At thy head. Alas! Thou and thy dower –
All shall age in a dark narrow chamber.
The poet laments the death of his daughter in 19 Threns. I give you only 3 of them as specimens and had great difficulty in translating them, since they are improper as it were of accords of sighs, and of heartfelt grief. Particularly the number of diminutives made of common in our language made it untranslatable. I often rememb If you should like to transfuse it into you the English; thank mind th the Latin Animula blandula vagular; or as Petrarch's love stanzas. The daughter when she died was a child of only 30 months. The The father describes her as a superior being to her age in talents and amiability: and the hope of what she might have been in future, makes his sorrow intense. The 13th Thren is very good too.
Identifier: | JB/110/078/001"JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110. |
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110 |
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078 |
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001 |
thren vii by john kochanowski / to the sleep |
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collectanea |
4 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
ia 1820 |
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fr4 |
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1820 |
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36068 |
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