Литература Англии эпохи Возрождения. XV – XVI вв. Рафаэль. Афинская школа (фреска)

Филип Сидни ( ) Philip Sidney …Only the Poet disdeining to be tied to any such subjection, lifted up with the vigor of his own invention, doth grow in effect into another nature: in making things either better then nature bringeth foorth, or quite a new, formes such as never were in nature: as the Heroes, Demigods, Cyclops, Chymeras, Furies, and such like; so as he goeth hand in hand with nature, not enclosed within the narrow warrant of her gifts, but freely raunging within the Zodiack of his owne wit. Nature never set foorth the earth in so rich Tapistry as diverse Poets have done, neither with so pleasaunt rivers, fruitfull trees, sweete smelling flowers, nor whatsoever else may make the too much loved earth more lovely: her world is brasen, the Poets only deliver a golden… «The Defense of Poesie»,

Эдмунд Спенсер ( ) Edmund Spenser … Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine, Y cladd in mightie armes and silver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine, The cruell markes of many' a bloudy fielde; Yet armes till that time did he never wield: His angry steede did chide his foming bitt, As much disdayning to the curbe to yield: As much disdayning to the curbe to yield: Full iolly knight he seemed, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters Upon a great aduenture he was bond, That greatest Gloriana to him gave, That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie lond, To winne him worship, and her grace to have, Which of all earthly things he most did crave; And ever as he rode, his hart did earne To prove his puissance in battell brave Upon his foe, and his new force to learne; Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne. The Faerie Queene: Book I.

Филип Сидни ( ) Philip Sidney … O night, the ease of care, the pledge of pleasure, Desires best mean, harvest of hearts affected, The seat of peace, the throne which is erected Of human life to be the quiet measure. Be victor still of Phoebus golden treasure, Who hath our sight with too much sight infected, Whose light is cause we have our lives neglected, Turning all natures course to self-displeasure. Arcadia, 1581