Classic Poem

Poems from Aurora - 1

When will arrive the Day,
Which must my life and sorrowes terminate,
That angry fortune may
(The tyrant goddesse of all humane state
Her crueltie fulfilling)
By one kinde death thus make an end of killing.

When shall my troubled yeares
Be to a verdant grave of flowers restor'd?
My injuries, my feares,
Too little merited, too much deplor'd?
When shall my just complaint
From equall heaven receive a full restraint?

Now I am throwne thus low,
What more can be desir'd by cruell Fate;
No hope my sad thoughts know,
Of reinjoying their past happy state:
Oh my afflicted minde!
Death would'st thou come, a welcome thou shalt finde.

With patience forlorne,
I passe the Moneths, the yeares in solitude,
The Evening and the Morn:
In vaine my hopes thus striving to delude,
My teares I constant keep,
And as I am Aurora, daily weep.
When the Rebellious Sea,
Armed with Snow, strives to subdue this Rock,
It seemes my miserie,
At once kindly to warne, and rudely mock:
For so the Destinies
My life each minute offer to surprize.

Soon as the morne appeares,
And ushers in with dubious light the day,
My reall sorrow weares
So true a shade of death, that I betray
My reason to that dreame,
And (though awake) dead to my selfe do seem.

All things within my view,
All things that grow and thrive by Natures care,
My sorrowes doe renew:
For by successive change they better'd are,
But to me fortune still
Is therefore constant, 'cause she first was ill.

This Tree from January
No livery but the hoarie Frost receives,
Yet May its dresse doth vary,
Proudly adorning it with painted leaves:
Unto the fruitfull plaine,
What August stole, April restores againe.

This Sea somtimes enrag'd,
Swells up in Christall mountaines to the skies,
Yet often is aswag'd:
But onely I in constant miseries,
Confin'd to endlesse griefe,
Expect no liberty, nor hope reliefe.EnglishJuan Perez de Montalvan