SONETOS 6/11  

Posted by Nelson Palitot

6
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface 
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place 
With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd. 
That use is not forbidden usury, 
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee, 
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
 If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee; 
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst de-part,
Leaving thee living in posterity? 
Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair 
To be death's conquest and make worms thineheir.
7
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light 
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye 
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, 
Serving with looks his sacred majesty; 
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, 
Resembling strong youth in his middle age, 
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, 
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, 
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, 
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are 
From his low tract, and look another way: 
So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon, 
Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.
8
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? 
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st notgladly,
 Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? 
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, 
By unions married, do offend thine ear, 
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds 
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. 
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, 
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; 
Resembling sire and child and happy mother, 
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing:
Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: 'Thou single wilt prove none.'
9
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
That thou consum'st thyself in single life?
Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow, and still weep 
That thou no form of thee hast left behind, 
When every private widow well may keep 
By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind. 
Look! what an unthrift in the world doth spend 
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, 
And kept unus'd, the user so destroys it. 
No love toward others in that bosom sits 
That on himself such murderous shame com- mits.
10
For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for thyself art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident; 
For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire. 
O! change thy thought, that I may change my mind:
Shall hate be fairer lodg'd than gentle love? 
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind, 
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: 
Make thee another self, for love of me, 
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
11
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st 
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou be-stow'st 
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youthconvertest. 
Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase;
Without this, folly, age and cold decay: 
If all were minded so, the times should cease 
And threescore year would make the world away. 
Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,
 Harsh, featureless and rude, barrenly perish:
Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more;
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bountycherish: 
She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby 
Thou shouldst print more, nor let that copydie.

This entry was posted on terça-feira, 24 de fevereiro de 2009 at 19:50 . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

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