On My First Son
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;
My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy.
Seven years tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
O, could I lose all father now! For why
Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage,
And if no other misery, yet age?
Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say, "Here doth lie
Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry."
For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such,
As what he loves may never like too much.
~~
Ben Jonson (1572-1637)
from Epigrams, 1616
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
Ben Jonson biography
"On My First Son" read by Robert Pinsky. Courtesy YouTube.
This poem does not read as amusing nor satirical as the definition of an 'epigram' states. Iambic pentameter. Attempting to employ Shakespeare (?), he may not like my stating this. Lamenting the loss of his son. The last line is kind of puzzling, suspect it means that love isn't always to one's liking. To love one's child then to loose a child, painful. Thank you George Dance. 💟💟💟💟💟💟
ReplyDeleteTrue, as my friend Brian Mallard wrote this morning, life is a vapor.
DeleteThis was a great treat, as I am a big time fan of the poetry of Robert Pinsky.
ReplyDelete