|Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,|
| |
|When in eternal lines to time thou growest: |
| So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, |
| So long lives this and this gives life to thee.|
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 19
|XIX. |
|Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, |
|And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; |
|Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's |
|jaws, |
|And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; |
|Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, |
|And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, |
|To the wide world and all her fading sweets; |
|But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: |
|O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, |
|Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; |
|Him in thy course untainted do allow |
|For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. |
| Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong,|
| My love shall in my verse ever live young. |
Sonnet 20
|XX. |
|A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted |
|Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; |
|A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted |
|With shifting change, as is false women's |
|fashion; |
|An eye more bright than theirs, less false in |
|rolling, |
|Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; |
|A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling, |
|Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.|
|And for a woman wert thou first created; |
|Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, |
|And by addition me of thee defeated, |
|By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. |
| But since she prick'd thee out for women's |
|pleasure, |
| Mine be thy love and thy love's use their |
|treasure. |
Sonnet 21
|XXI. |
|So is it not with me as with that Muse |
|Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse, |
|Who heaven itself for ornament doth use |
|And every fair with his fair doth rehearse |
|Making a couplement of proud compare, |
|With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich |
|gems, |
|With April's first-born flowers, and all things |
|rare |
|That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems. |
|O' let me, true in love, but truly write, |
|And then believe me, my love is as fair |
|As any mother's child, though not so bright |
|As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air: |
| Let them say more than like of hearsay well; |
| I will not praise that purpose not to sell. |
Sonnet 22
|XXII. |
|My glass shall not persuade me I am old, |
|So long as youth and thou are of one date; |
|But when in thee time's furrows I behold, |
|Then look I death my days should expiate. |
|For all that beauty that doth cover thee |
|Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, |
|Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: |
|How can I then be elder than thou art? |
|O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary |
|As I, not for myself, but for thee will; |
|Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary |
|As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. |
| Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain; |
| Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again. |
Sonnet 23
|XXIII. |
|As an unperfect actor on the stage |
|Who with his fear is put besides his part, |
|Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, |
|Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.|
|So I, for fear of trust, forget to say |
|The perfect ceremony of love's rite, |
|And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, |
|O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.|
|O, let my books be then the eloquence |
|And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, |
|Who plead for love and look for recompense |
|More than that tongue that more hath more |
|express'd. |
| O, learn to read what silent love hath writ: |
| To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. |
Sonnet 24
|XXIV. |
|Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd|
|Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; |
|My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, |
|And perspective it is the painter's art. |
|For through the painter must you see his skill, |
|To find where your true image pictured lies; |
|Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, |
|That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. |
|Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: |
|Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me |
|Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun |
|Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; |
| Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art; |
| They draw but what they see, know not the |
|heart. |
Sonnet 25
|XXV. |
|Let those who are in favour with their stars |
|Of public honour and proud titles boast, |
|Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, |
|Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. |
|Great princes' favourites their fair leaves |
|spread |
|But as the marigold at the sun's eye, |
|And in themselves their pride lies buried, |
|For at a frown they in their glory die. |
|The painful warrior famoused for fight, |
|After a thousand victories once foil'd, |
|Is from the book of honour razed quite, |
|And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd: |
| Then happy I, that love and am beloved |
| Where I may not remove nor be removed. |
Sonnet 26
|XXVI. |
|Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage |
|Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, |
|To thee I send this written embassage, |
|To witness duty, not to show my wit: |
|Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine |
|May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, |
|But that I hope some good conceit of thine |
|In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;|
|Till whatsoever star that guides my moving |
|Points on me graciously with fair aspect |
|And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving, |
|To show me worthy of thy sweet respect: |
| Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee; |
| Till then not show my head where thou mayst |
|prove me. |
Sonnet 27
|XXVII. |
|Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, |
|The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; |
|But then begins a journey in my head, |
|To work my mind, when body's work's expired: |
|For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, |
|Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, |
|And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, |
|Looking on darkness which the blind do see |
|Save that my soul's imaginary sight |
|Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, |
|Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, |
|Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.|
| Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, |
| For thee and for myself no quiet find. |
Sonnet 28
|XXVIII. |
|How can I then return in happy plight, |
|That am debarr'd the benefit of rest? |
|When day's oppression is not eased by night, |
|But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd? |
|And each, though enemies to either's reign, |
|Do in consent shake hands to torture me; |
|The one by toil, the other to complain |
|How far I toil, still farther off from thee. |
|I tell the day, to please them thou art bright |
|And dost him grace when clouds do blot the |
|heaven: |
|So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night, |
|When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the |
|even. |
| But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer |
| And night doth nightly make grief's strength |
|seem stronger. |
Sonnet 29
|XXIX. |
|When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, |
|I all alone beweep my outcast state |
|And trouble deal heaven with my bootless cries |
|And look upon myself and curse my fate, |
|Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, |
|Featured like him, like him with friends |
|possess'd, |
|Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, |
|With what I most enjoy contented least; |
|Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, |
|Haply I think on thee, and then my state, |
|Like to the lark at break of day arising |
|From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; |
| For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth |
|brings |
| That then I scorn to change my state with |
|kings. |
Sonnet 30
|XXX. |
|When to the sessions of sweet silent thought |
|I summon up remembrance of things past, |
|I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, |
|And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: |
|Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, |
|For precious friends hid in death's dateless |
|night, |
|And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, |
|And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: |
|Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, |
|And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er |
|The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, |
|Which I new pay as if not paid before. |
| But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, |
| All losses are restored and sorrows end. |
|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |
|Sonnet 31 |
|XXXI. |
|Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, |
|Which I by lacking have supposed dead, |
|And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, |
|And all those friends which I thought buried. |
|How many a holy and obsequious tear |
|Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye |
|As interest of the dead, which now appear |
|But things removed that hidden in thee lie! |
|Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, |
|Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, |
|Who all their parts of me to thee did give; |
|That due of many now is thine alone: |
| Their images I loved I view in thee, |
| And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. |
Sonnet 32
|XXXII. |
|If thou survive my well-contented day, |
|When that churl Death my bones with dust shall |
|cover, |
|And shalt by fortune once more re-survey |
|These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, |
|Compare them with the bettering of the time, |
|And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, |
|Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, |
|Exceeded by the height of happier men. |
|O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: |
|'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing |
|age, |
|A dearer birth than this his love had brought, |
|To march in ranks of better equipage: |
| But since he died and poets better prove, |
| Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his |
|love.' |
Sonnet 33
|XXXIII. |
|Full many a glorious morning have I seen |
|Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, |
|Kissing with golden face the meadows green, |
|Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; |
|Anon permit the basest clouds to ride |
|With ugly rack on his celestial face, |
|And from the forlorn world his visage hide, |
|Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: |
|Even so my sun one early morn did shine |
|With all triumphant splendor on my brow; |
|But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; |
|The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. |
| Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; |
| Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun |
|staineth. |
Sonnet 34
|XXXIV. |
|Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, |
|And make me travel forth without my cloak, |
|To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, |
|Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? |
|'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou |
|break, |
|To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, |
|For no man well of such a salve can speak |
|That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace: |
|Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; |
|Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: |
|The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief |
|To him that bears the strong offence's cross. |
| Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love |
|sheds, |
| And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds. |
Sonnet 35
|XXXV. |
|No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: |
|Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; |
|Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, |
|And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. |
|All men make faults, and even I in this, |
|Authorizing thy trespass with compare, |
|Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, |
|Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; |
|For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense-- |
|Thy adverse party is thy advocate-- |
|And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence: |
|Such civil war is in my love and hate |
| That I an accessary needs must be |
| To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. |
Sonnet 36
|XXXVI. |
Страницы: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
