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Explore the Craft of Writing Poetry Poetic Movements from the 1500s. Elizabethan Poetry refers to poetry written during the 16th century, reign of Elizabeth I. Poetry was not only written in the courts but also in the taverns of England. Poets such as Shakespeare, Sir Philip Sidney, Ben Johnson and Christopher Marlow head the list. The poetry was predominately romantic but did have a range from idealism to realism and all that flows between. The English poetic forms were influenced by mostly Italian literature but also drew on Spanish and French writings. Drama in verse emerged as a popular vehicle through the works of Marlowe and Shakespeare which was respected across the continent. It was a time of experimentation when verse was used to treat subjects such as theology and science with the same affectations as romance. Poetry was popular with noblemen and peasants alike. I Must Have Wanton Poets by Christopher Marlow I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, Musicians, that with touching of a string May draw the pliant king which way I please: Music and poetry is his delight; Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows; And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay; Sometime a lovely boy in Dian's shape, With hair that gilds the water as it glides, Crownets of pearl about his naked arms, And in his sportful hands an olive-tree, To hide those parts which men delight to see, Shall bathe him in a spring; and there, hard by, One like Actæon, peeping through the grove, Shall by the angry goddess be transformed, And running in the likeness of an hart, By yelping hounds pull'd down, shall seem to die: Such things as these best please his majesty. Scottish Chaucerians were a group of 16th century Scottish poets influenced by the writings of Chaucer. It was a time when poets tried to create something new from what had gone before. The works of Chaucer were not their only influence. The poetry also reflected a distinct Scottish flavor, using the traditions and history of the Scots. Names of poets included King James I, Robert Henryson, William Dunbar and Gawin Douglas. To a Lady by William Dunbar SWEET rois of vertew and of gentilness, Delytsum lily of everie lustynes, Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear, And everie vertew that is wenit dear, Except onlie that ye are mercyless Into your garth this day I did persew; There saw I flowris that fresche were of hew; Baith quhyte and reid most lusty were to seyne, And halesome herbis upon stalkis greene; Yet leaf nor flowr find could I nane of rew. I doubt that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne, Has slain this gentil herb, that I of mene; Quhois piteous death dois to my heart sic paine That I would make to plant his root againe,-- So confortand his levis unto me bene.
Explore the Craft of Writing Greek Verse, the beginnings. Complaint, sometimes called Jeremiad is a genre of poetry that carries a theme of bitter sorrow. The rhetoric "rails against cruel fate" NPOPP. The Occitan version of the Complaint is the enuig. By the Middle Ages there were loosely 3 types of Complaint: satirical poems exposing evil in the world. didactic verse focusing on the decline of someone "great" and verse lamenting over unrequited love. Although there is not always a specific structure identified with this genre, an interpretation of the Complaint made popular by Scot poet, William Dunbar's (1460-1520) Lament for Makers , is framed: stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains. metered, often iambic or trochaic tetrameter. rhymed, rhyme scheme aabB ccbB ddbB etc. B being a refrain Lament for the Makers by William Dunbar (1460-1520) I that in hell was and gladness, Am trublit now with great sickness, And feblit with infermite; Timor mortis conturbat me. Our plesance heir is all vane glory, This false world is but transitory, The flesche is brukle, the Fend is sle; Timor mortis conturbat me*. The state of man does change and vary, Now sound, now sick, now blyth, now sorry, Now dansand mirry, now like to die:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. No state in Erd here stands sicker; As with the wand waves the wicker So wants this world's vanity:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. Into the Death gois all Estatis, Princis, Prelatis, and Potestatis, Baith rich and poor of all degree:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. He takis the knichtis in to the field Enarmit under helm and scheild; Victor he is at all mellie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. That strong unmerciful tyrant Takis, on the mother's breast sowkand, The babe full of benignitie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. He takis the campion in the stour, The captain closit in the tour, The lady in bour full of beauty:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. He spairis no lord for his piscence, Na clerk for his intelligence; His awful strike may no man flee:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. Art-magicianis and astrologgis, Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis, Them helpis no conclusionis slee:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. In medecine the most practicianis, Leechis, surrigianis, and physicianis, Themself from Death may not supplee:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. I see that makaris amang the lave Playis here their padyanis, syne gois to grave; Sparit is nocht their facultie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. He has done petuously devour The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour, The Monk of Bury, and Gower, all three:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. The good Sir Hew of Eglintoun, Ettrick, Heriot, and Wintoun, He has tane out of this cuntrie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. That scorpion fell has done infeck Maister John Clerk, and James Afflek, Fra ballat-making and tragedie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. Holland and Barbour he has berevit; Alas! that he not with us levit Sir Mungo Lockart of the Lee:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. Clerk of Tranent eke he has tane, That made the anteris of Gawaine; Sir Gilbert Hay endit has he:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. He has Blind Harry and Sandy Traill Slain with his schour of mortal hail, Quhilk Patrick Johnstoun might nought flee:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. He has reft Merseir his endite, That did in luve so lively write, So short, so quick, of sentence hie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. He has tane Rowll of Aberdene, And gentill Rowll of Corstorphine; Two better fallowis did no man see:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. In Dunfermline he has tane Broun With Maister Robert Henrysoun; Sir John the Ross enbrast has he:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. And he has now tane, last of a, Good gentil Stobo and Quintin Shaw,| Of quhom all wichtis hes pitie:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. Good Maister Walter Kennedy In point of Death lies verily; Great ruth it were that so suld be:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. Sen he has all my brether tane, He will naught let me live alane; Of force I man his next prey be:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. Since for the Death remeid is none, Best is that we for Death dispone, After our death that live may we:-- Timor Mortis conturbat me. *("Timor mortis conurbat me" is Latin, loosely translated, I'm scared to death of dying.)
Explore the Craft of Writing Poetry Scot Verse can be traced back to an oral tradition of the Celtic and Gaelic poets of the 2nd century. However unlike other cultures hailing from the same Celtic roots such as Ireland and Wales who's poetry was recorded and passed on to future generations, there are only a few ancient Scot manuscripts from the 12th century which contain only "scraps of (Scot) poetry." In the 13th and 14th centuries, there are a few poets whose work has been preserved. One is Scot poet George Buchanan who wrote primarily in Latin and is known for his lyrical translation of the Psalms. With the turbulent political history of the Scots, their language and literature have been equally as turbulent. By the 14th century, Scots was the language of the lowlands while Gaelic remained the language of the highlands. The Reformation of the 16th century saw not only religious reform but also a Scottish language reform which seems to have put a halt to Scottish literature for a couple of centuries. The few who survived the era were influenced by the English poet Chaucer and were known as the Scottish Chaucerians. But since the end of the 17th century, many Scot poets have written in English. Though the "English" of the early Scot poets is riddled with Gaelic and Scot words and one can audibly hear the Scottish burr in some pieces. Then in the 18th century, there was a resurgence of Scottish poetry spearheaded by Robert Burns. The current British Poet Laureate is a Scot, Carol Ann Duffy and she stays true to her Scot roots. The Scottish Prince by Carol Ann Duffy Every summer, I visit the Scottish Prince at his castle high on a hill outside Crieff. We dine on haggis and tatties and neeps – I drink water with mine and the Prince sips at a peaty peppery dram. Then it's time for the dance. O Scottish Prince, the heathery air sweetens the night. Bats hang upside down in the pines like lamps waiting for light. Ask me, ask me to dance to the skirl o' the pipes. All the girls are in dresses. The boys are in kilts, but no boy's so fine as the Prince in his tartan pleats. I wait for a glance from the Prince, for the chance to prance or flounce by his side, to bounce hand in hand down the Gay Gordon line. Och, the pleasure's a' mine! O Scottish Prince, the heathery air sweetens the night. Bats hang upside down in the pines like lamps waiting for light. Ask me, ask me to dance to the skirl o' the pipes. At the end of summer, I say goodbye to the Scottish Prince and catch a train to the South, over the border, the other side of the purple hills, far from the blue and white flag, waving farewell from the castle roof. The Prince will expect me back again next year – here's a sprig of heather pressed in my hand as proof. O Scottish Prince, the heathery air sweetens the night. Bats hang upside down in the pines like lamps waiting for light. Ask me, ask me to dance to the skirl o' the pipes. Ask me, ask me, ask me to dance to the skirl o' the pipes. Sweet Rose of Virtue by William Dunbar1460-1525 loose translation by Michael R. Burch Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness, delightful lily of youthful wantonness, richest in bounty and in beauty clear and in every virtue that is held most dear― except only that you are merciless. Into your garden, today, I followed you; there I saw flowers of freshest hue, both white and red, delightful to see, and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently― yet everywhere, no odor but bitter rue. I fear that March with his last arctic blast has slain my fair rose of pallid and gentle cast, whose piteous death does my heart such terrible pain that, if I could, I would compose her roots again― so comforting her bowering leaves have been. Brus Burns Stanza Flyting Stave