Absent from thee I languish still; Then ask me not, when I return? The straying fool 'twill plainly kill To wish all day, all night to mourn.…
Born in 1647, John Wilmot was a poet and writer, prominent in the court of King Charles II, and the Second Earl of Rochester. Something of a hell raiser in his day, his proclivity for drink and womanizing were closely linked to his poetry and he often trod a fine line within court circles. Among the poets of the Restoration though, he had no peer and was considered the greatest satirist of his day. John Wilmot was born in Oxfordshire and his father was made Earl of Rochester for his service to the king whilst in exile. Wilmot had a private tutor before he moved onto grammar school at Burford and thence to college in Oxford where it was noted that he began to exhibit the behavior that would gain him a reputation later in life for debauchery. Fated by the King himself, Wilmot received a pension and was sent on the Grand Tour of Europe. On his return, Charles II suggested that he should marry Elizabeth Malet but the family, hungry for wealth, denied the union. Undeterred John Wilmot attempted to kidnap her, for which he spent nearly three weeks imprisoned in the Tower. A spell in the Dutch War, where he was noted for his bravery, redeemed his character in the eyes of the court and, in 1666, the King appointed him a Gentleman of the Bedchamber. Later that summer, Wilmot returned to sea and again exhibited a staggering bravery. He also renewed his relationship with Elizabeth Malet, eloped with her and was secretly married. From then on his life was split between the splash and color of the court, where rumor had it that he took Nell Gwyn as a mistress for a while, and the quiet of his country estate. At court, John Wilmot became part of The Merry Gang who were infamous for their drunken behavior and sexual mores. In 1673, he was exiled from court because of an ill-thought satirical poem about Charles II, although he was later forgiven and appointed Ranger of Woodstock Park. He fell out of favor again later in 1676 when one of his companions was killed during a late night scuffle. John Wilmot’s poetic canon has been much disputed over the years, particularly as to how many poems he was responsible for. His work was varied and covered a variety of topics concerning the time, often satirizing the affairs of court and parodying his contemporaries. But most of it wasn’t formally published until after his untimely death. His poem A Satyr Against Mankind published in 1675 contrasts human deceit with the wisdom of animals and denounces the optimism of the time that accompanied the restoration of the monarchy. It was one of the rare poems that Wilmot wrote which was actually published, most were produced in manuscript form and it is thought that many did not survive. His popularity began to wane towards the end of his short life and was never really restored until the early 20th century when poets such as Ezra Pound and William Empson reevaluated his work. With the ravaging effects of his alcoholism and venereal disease, by the age of 33 it was clear that John Wilmot, Second Earl of Rochester, was dying. He passed away in 1680 and was buried at Spelsbury Church in the county of Oxfordshire.
John Wilmot şiirleri
Stre: Prethy now fond foole give o're; Since my heart is gon before To what purpose should I stay? Love Commands another Way.…
#listen-container { display: inline-block; padding: 9px 15px; background: #10578E; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; border: 1px solid #1791ef; border-bottom: 1px solid #…
Chloe, In verse by your command I write. Shortly you'll bid me ride astride, and fight:…
All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o'er, Whose images are kept in store…
Well Sir, 'tis granted, I said Dryden's Rhimes, Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times: What foolish Patron, is there found of his, So blindly partial, to deny me this?…
Much wine had passed, with grave discourse Of who fucks who, and who does worse (Such as you usually do hear From those that diet at the Bear),…
Were I - who to my cost already am One of those strange, prodigious creatures, man - A spirit free to choose for my own share What sort of flesh and blood I pleased to wear,…
#listen-container { display: inline-block; padding: 9px 15px; background: #10578E; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; border: 1px solid #1791ef; border-bottom: 1px solid #…
#listen-container { display: inline-block; padding: 9px 15px; background: #10578E; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; border: 1px solid #1791ef; border-bottom: 1px solid #…
#listen-container { display: inline-block; padding: 9px 15px; background: #10578E; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; border: 1px solid #1791ef; border-bottom: 1px solid #…
By all love's soft, yet mighty powers, It is a thing unfit, That men should fuck in time of flowers, Or when the smock's beshit.…
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain, that sighs for you For you alone was born.…
Here lies a great and mighty King, Whose promise none relied on; He never said a foolish thing, Nor ever did a wise one.
#listen-container { display: inline-block; padding: 9px 15px; background: #10578E; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; border: 1px solid #1791ef; border-bottom: 1px solid #…
15 / 32 gösteriliyor