Monday, December 23, 2013


In Solemn Groves and Solitary Bowers

Francis Quarles (1592-1644), "Song," from The Virgin Widow. A Comedie (London: Printed for R. Royston, 1649), p. 34 (line numbers added):
How blest are they that wast their weary howers
In solemne Groves, and solitary Bowers,
                           Where neither eye, nor eare
                                           Can see, or heare,
                                           The frantique mirth,        5
                 And false delights of frolique earth;
                            Where they may sit, and pant,
                             And breathe their pursy souls,
Where neither Grief consumes, nor griping want
                 Afflicts, nor sullen Care controuls.        10
Away false joyes, ye murther where ye kisse:
There is no heav'n to that; No life to this.
1 wast their weary howers: waste their weary hours
8 pursy: short of breath, wheezy, asthmatic (Oxford English Dictionary)
12 to: equal to

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