file

06_poems_pericles_facsimiles_1905_oxford_page_0425.jpg

01KG6QHPH9TVQMW2T9TQK67PYX

Properties

cid
bafkreiatikcmnvbtgwgtwcnf7bjagfji3gqfr5pnkqmgsoq3vgxwodevum
content_type
image/jpeg
filename
06_poems_pericles_facsimiles_1905_oxford_page_0425.jpg
height
2400
key
pdf-page-1769752548766-6qo5a8dj7h5
ocr_model
mistral-ocr-latest
page_number
425
size
470047
text
14 SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE to the greatest of all patrons of Elizabethan poetry—the Queen. The poets who sought her favour not merely commended the beauty of her mind and body with the semblance of amorous ecstasy; they carried their professions of ‘love’ to the extreme limits of realism. They seasoned their notes of adoration with reproaches of inconstancy and infidelity, which they couched in the peculiarly intimate vocabulary that is characteristic of genuinely thwarted passion. Sir Walter Raleigh. Sir Walter Raleigh offers especially vivid evidence of the assurance with which the poetic client offered his patron the homage of varied manifestations of amoristic sentiment. He celebrated his devotion to the Queen in a poem, called Cynthia, consisting of twenty-one books, of which only the last survives.¹ The tone of such portion as is extant is that of ecstatic love which is incapable of restraint. At one point the poet reflects [How] that the eyes of my mind held her beams In every part transferred by love’s swift thought; Far off or near, in waking or in dreams Imagination strong their lustre brought. Such force her angelic appearance had To master distance, time or cruelty. Raleigh’s simulated passion rendered him intentive, wakeful, and dismayed, In fears, in dreams, in feverous jealousy.² ¹ The date of Raleigh’s composition is uncertain; most of the poem was probably composed about 1594. ‘Cynthia’ is the name commonly given the Queen by her poetic admirers. Spenser, Barnfield, and numerous other poets accepted the convention. ² With some of the italicized words, passages in Shakespeare’s sonnets may be compared, e.g.: XXVII. 9–10. . . . my soul’s imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view. XLIII. 11–12. When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay.
text_extracted_at
2026-01-30T06:18:16.467Z
text_extracted_by
ocr-service
text_has_content
true
text_images_count
0
text_source
ocr
uploaded
true
width
1750

Relationships