View source for Thomas Wyatt's Poetry Page

<div class="WPC-editableContent"><font size="2"> <table align="bottom" cellpadding="3" class="WPC-edit-border-all" width="750">  <tr> <td class="WPC-edit-custom-bgColorWPC-edit-custom-bgColor WPC-edit-borderTop-none WPC-edit-custom-borderTop WPC-edit-borderLeft-none WPC-edit-custom-borderLeft WPC-edit-borderRight-none WPC-edit-custom-borderRight WPC-edit-borderBottom-none WPC-edit-custom-borderBottom" width="100%"> <div align="center"> <font size="3"><b>[[File:RIkLG2RwgilPXQUSJdbwEA7787.jpeg|194px|Thomas Wyatt's Poetry Page - The Tudors Wiki]]</b></font></div> <div align="center"> <font size="6"><b><font face="Times">[[Thomas Wyatt]], the Elder's <br/>poetry page<br/></font></b></font><font size="6"><font face="Times">(1503-1542)</font></font><br/><b><font color="#ffa500" size="3">(Lines highlighted in orange are<br/>used in the series for easy reference)</font><font size="5"><br/><font face="Times" size="4">Known as</font><br/></font></b><font color="#ffffff" size="7"><font face="harrington">'The Father of English Poetry'</font></font><br/><font face="Times" size="3"><b><br/><br/><font size="4">Wyatt's work divides into two groups: </font></b></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Times" size="4"><b>- the sonnets, rondeaus, songs, and lyric poems </b></font></div> <div align="center"> <b><font size="3"><font face="Times" size="4">- the satires and the penitential psalms</font><br/><br/><br/><br/></font></b><b><font size="3"><table align="bottom" cellpadding="3" class="WPC-edit-style-none WPC-edit-border-none WPC-edit-styleData-color1=%23191919&amp;color2=%23474747" width="600"><tr><td class="" width="100%"><div align="center"><font size="2">Ninety-six songs were first published in 1557 in <i>Songes and Sonettes (Tottel's Miscellany</i>). Wyatt pioneered the sonnet in English verse, writing 31 sonnets, of which 10 were translations from Petrarch. None of his poems appeared in his lifetime. </font></div><font size="2"><br/><br/></font><div align="center"><font size="2">Wyatt's best work is probably contained in his 200 songs, their main theme<br/>- his ill-treatment at the hands of his mistress. </font><br/><br/><font size="2">Wyatt's best songs and poems include <br/>"What No, Perdie," "Tagus, Farewell," "Lux, My Fair Falcon," "Forget Not Yet," "Blame Not My Lute," "My Lute, Awake," "In Eternum," "[[They Flee from Me]]," and "Once in Your Grace." </font></div><font size="2"><div align="center"> <br/><font face="Times" size="4"><a class="external" href="http://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/Library/SLT/media/robin.mp3" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" title="*Listen to one of Wyatts poems (Robin) set to music here *">*Listen to one of Wyatts poems (Robin) set to music here *</a></font></div></font></td></tr><tr><td class="" width="100%"><font size="2"><br/></font><div align="center">[[File:HI1xuehA0i6CWMZrJS5Ffg107909.jpeg|530px|Book of Sir Thomas Wyatt]]<br/>[[Thomas Wyatt]]'s handwriting</div><div align="center"></div></td></tr><tr><td class="" width="100%"><div align="center"><font size="2"><embed allowfullscreen="true" height="278" src="http://widget.wetpaintserv.us/wiki/thetudorswiki/widget/youtubevideo/503671d08d7f1aa73a24357ec7adc018c2318c13" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="344" wmode="transparent"/></font></div><div align="center"><font size="2">Source: <a class="external" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/poetryanimations" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">poetryanimations</a></font></div></td></tr></table></font></b></div><div align="center"><br/><table align="bottom" cellpadding="3" class="WPC-edit-style-none WPC-edit-border-none WPC-edit-styleData-color1=%23191919&amp;color2=%23474747" width="750"><tr><td class="" width="50%"><embed allowfullscreen="true" height="283" src="http://widget.wetpaintserv.us/wiki/thetudorswiki/widget/youtubevideo/2e188f3722a3c41b2d9621f2c6fcfdcd6a09db74" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="350" wmode="transparent"/></td><td align="center" class="" width="50%"><br/><embed allowfullscreen="true" height="223" src="http://widget.wetpaintserv.us/wiki/thetudorswiki/widget/youtubevideo/fa4c8271b954a3af2eb63b797d4edcb60c274410" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="367" wmode="transparent"/><br/>It's a convention that a poet will refer to his muse as his "lute",  his "lyre"  or his "song"<br/><br/><a class="external" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/poetryanimations" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><font size="2">Special thanks to : </font></a><font size="2"><a class="external" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/SpokenVerse" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">SpokenVerse</a></font></td></tr></table><br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]][[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]</div></td></tr><tr><td width="100%"><br/></td></tr></table></font> <table align="bottom" cellpadding="3" class="WPC-edit-border-all" width="750">  <tr> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><b>[[File:XczdCrhkn5lvNgNOIc7NWA9428.jpeg|260px|Hind]]</b></font><br/><br/><font color="#ffffff"><b>WHOSO list to hunt ?</b> I know where is an hind !</font></div> <div align="center">  But as for me, alas ! I may no more,</div> <div align="center">  The vain travail hath wearied me so sore ;</div> <div align="center">  I am of them that furthest come behind.</div> <div align="center">  Yet may I by no means my wearied mind</div> <div align="center">  Draw from the deer ; but as she fleeth afore</div> <div align="center">  Fainting I follow ; I leave off therefore,</div> <div align="center">  Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.</div> <div align="center">  Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt</div> <div align="center">  As well as I, may spend his time in vain !</div> <div align="center">  And graven with diamonds in letters plain,</div> <div align="center">  There is written her fair neck round about ;</div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffa500"><b>' Noli me tangere ; for Cæsar's I am,*</b></font></div> <div align="center"> <b>And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.'</b></div><br/><br/><i><font size="2">[based upon Petrarch's sonnet #190.<font size="3"> </font><font size="-1">The Latin phrase 'Noli me tangere' is taken from the Vulgate; it is translated as 'Touch me not'.</font><font size="3"> </font></font><font size="2">Scholars generally believe the poem is a direct comment upon Henry VIII's infatuation for Anne, her character, and her newfound importance at the English court, such that when Wyatt speaks of the deer as royal property not to be hunted by others, he is acknowledging that Anne has become the property of the King (Caesar) alone. Wyatt was said to have been interested in Anne—and may have been her lover—but would have withdrawn as a suitor after the King made clear his wish to claim her.]</font></i><br/><font color="#ffa500">* This line is spoken by Lady [[Ursula Misseldon]], a fictional character in Season 3 of the series</font><br/><br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div><br/><br/><div align="center"> <b>Some time I fled the fire that me brent</b><br/>By sea, by land, by water and by wind;<br/>And now I follow the coals that be quent,<br/>From Dover to Calais against my mind.<br/>Lo how desire is both sprung and spent!<br/>And he may see that whilom was so blind,<br/>And all his labour now he laugh to scorn,<br/>Meshed in the briars that erst was all to-torn.<br/><br/></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div><font size="2"><i>[This seems to have been written around 1532, when Henry VIII and [[Anne Boleyn]] went to Calais accompanied by Wyatt. This sounds as though Wyatt was seriously in love and, now cured, was thinking of what a fool he'd been; but as always, the question is: how seriously do we take it, and how much is simply an expression of courtly love? ]</i></font> <br/><br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/><div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <b>The Riddle</b></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  What word is that that changeth not,<br/>Though it be turned and made in twain?<br/>It is mine answer, God it wot,<br/>And eke the causer of my pain.<br/>It love rewardeth with disdain:<br/>Yet is it loved. What would ye more?<br/>It is my health eke and my sore.<br/></div> <div align="center"> </div><font size="3"><i>[The answer to the riddle is the epigram <font color="#ffa500">Anna</font> which is also thought to refer to [[Anne Boleyn]]]</i></font> <br/><br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/><div align="center">  Lucks, my <font color="#ffa500">falcon</font>, and your fellows all,</div> <div align="center">  How well pleasant it were your liberty!</div> <div align="center">  Ye not forsake me that fair might ye befall.</div> <div align="center">  But they that sometime liked my company</div> <div align="center">  Like lice away from dead bodies they crawl.</div> <div align="center">  Lo, what a proof in light adversity!</div> <div align="center">  But ye, my birds, I swear by all your bells,</div> <div align="center">  Ye be my friends and so be but few else<br/><br/></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font size="2"><i>[almost certainly refers to <font color="#90d6d6">[[Anne Boleyn]]</font> and members of her affinite, who wore the image of a falcon on the badges that identified them]</i></font></div> <div align="center"> <br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]</div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  If waker care, if sudden pale colour,<br/>If many sighs, with little speech to plain,<br/>Now Joy, now woe, if they my cheer disdain,<br/>For hope of small, if much to fear therefore;<br/>To haste to slack my pace less or more,<br/>Be sign of love, then do I love again.<br/>If thou ask whom; sure, since I did refrain<br/><font color="#ffa500"><b>Her that did set our country in a roar,</b>*</font><br/>Th'unfeigned cheer of Phyllis hath the place<br/>That <font color="#ffa500"><b>Brunet</b></font> had; she hath and ever shall.<br/>She from myself now hath me in her grace:<br/>She hath in hand my wit, my will, my all.<br/>My heart alone well worthy she doth stay,<br/>Without whose help, scant do I live a day.<br/></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div><font size="3">[Commonly held belief that the '<font color="#ffa500">Brunet</font>' that "set the country in a roar" was [[Anne Boleyn]] &amp; Phyllis was [[Elizabeth Darrell]]]   <br/><br/><font color="#ffa500">* [[Thomas Wyatt]] says this line in Season 1 of the series</font><br/><br/></font></td> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular"><b>In Mourning wise since daily I increase,</b></font></font></div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Thus should I cloak the cause of all my grief;</font></font></div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">So pensive mind with tongue to hold his peace'My reason sayeth there can be no relief:</font></font></div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Wherefore give ear, I humbly you require,<br/></font></font></div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">The affect to know that thus doth make me moan.</font></font></div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">The cause is great of all my doleful cheer</font></font></div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">For those that were, and now be dead and gone.<br/><br/><br/><br/></font></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">What thought to death desert be now their call.</font></font></div> <div align="center">  As by their faults it doth appear right plain?</div> <div align="center">  Of force I must lament that such a fall should light on those so wealthily did reign,</div> <div align="center">  Though some perchance will say, of cruel heart,</div> <div align="center">  A traitor's death why should we thus bemoan?</div> <div align="center">  But I alas, set this offence apart,</div> <div align="center">  Must needs bewail the death of some be gone.</div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">As for them all I do not thus lament,</font></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">But as of right my reason doth me bind;</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">But as the most doth all their deaths repent,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Even so do I by force of mourning mind.<br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Some say,<font color="#ffa500"> <b>'Rochford,</b></font> </font><font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">haddest thou been not so proud,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">For thy great wit each man would thee bemoan,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Since as it is so, many cry aloud</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">It is great loss that thou art dead and gone.'<br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Ah!<font color="#ffa500"> <b>Norris</b>,</font> Norris, my tears begin to run</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">To think what hap did thee so lead or guide</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Whereby thou hast both thee and thine undone</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">That is bewailed in court of every side;</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">In place also where thou hast never been<br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Both man and child doth piteously thee moan.</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">They say, 'Alas, thou art far overseen</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">By thine offences to be thus deat and gone.'<br/><br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Ah! <font color="#ffa500"><b>Weston,</b></font> Weston, that pleasant was and young,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">In active things who might with thee compare?<br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">All words accept that thou diddest speak with tongue,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">So well esteemed with each where thou diddest fare.</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">And we that now in court doth lead our life</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Most part in mind doth thee lament and moan;</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">But that thy faults we daily hear so rife,<br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">All we should weep that thou are dead and gone.<br/><br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffa500"><b>Brereton</b></font> farewell, as one that least I knew.</div> <div align="center">  Great was thy love with divers as I hear,</div> <div align="center">  But common voice doth not so sore thee rue</div> <div align="center">  As other twain that doth before appear;</div> <div align="center">  But yet no doubt but they friends thee lament</div> <div align="center">  And other hear their piteous cry and moan.</div> <div align="center">  So doth eah heart for thee likewise relent</div> <div align="center">  That thou givest cause thus to be dead and gone.</div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Ah!<font color="#ffa500"> <b>Mark</b></font>, what moan should I for thee make more,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Since that thy death thou hast deserved best,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Save only that mine eye is forced sore</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">With piteous plaint to moan thee with the rest?</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">A time thou haddest above thy poor degree,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">The fall whereof thy friends may well bemoan:</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">A rotten twig upon so high a tree</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Hath slipped thy hold, and thou art dead and gone.<br/><br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">And thus farewell each one in hearty wise!</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">The axe is home, your heads be in the street;</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">The trickling tears doth fall so from my eyes</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">I scarce may write, my paper is so wet.</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">But what can hope when death hath played his part,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Though nature's course will thus lament and moan?</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Leave sobs therefore, and every Christian heart</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular">Pray for the souls of those be dead and gone.<br/><br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, Swiss, SunSans-Regular" size="2"><i><font size="3">[[[Thomas Wyatt]] mentions Rochford ([[George Boleyn]]), [[Henry Norris]],[[Francis Weston]] &amp; [[Mark Smeaton]]'s deaths but fails to mention [[Anne Boleyn]]]</font><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/></i></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <b>'Ye Olde Mule'</b> <blockquote>  Ye old mule that think yourself so fair, <br/>Leave off with craft your beauty to repair, <br/>For it is true, without any fable, <br/>No man setteth more by riding in your saddle. <br/>Too much travail so do your train appair. <br/>Ye old mule <br/><br/><br/>With false savour though you deceive th'air, <br/>Whoso taste you shall well perceive your lair <br/>Savoureth somewhat of a Kappurs stable. <br/>Ye old mule <br/><br/><br/>Ye must now serve to market and to fair, <br/>All for the burden, for panniers a pair. <br/>For since gray hairs been powdered in your sable, <br/>The thing ye seek for, you must yourself enable <br/>To purchase it by payment and by prayer, <br/>Ye old mule.<br/><br/></blockquote></div>[<font size="2">'The thing ye seek for' is, of course, sex. This work, though undated, was probably written after Anne and Henry were wed in 1533. Perhaps Wyatt had been rebuffed by Anne once again; the poem is certainly churlish enough.]</font> <blockquote> </blockquote></td></tr> <tr> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><b>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/>Farewell</b>, Love,- and all thy laws forever,</font></div> <div align="center">  Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more;</div> <div align="center">  Senec and Plato call me from thy lore,</div> <div align="center">  To perfect wealth my wit for to endeavor.</div> <div align="center">  In blind error when I did persever,</div> <div align="center">  Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore,</div> <div align="center">  Hath taught me to set in trifles no store</div> <div align="center">  And 'scape forth since liberty is lever. </div> <div align="center">  Therefore farewell, go trouble younger hearts,</div> <div align="center">  And in me claim no more authority;</div> <div align="center">  With idle youth go use thy property,</div> <div align="center">  And thereon spend thy many brittle darts.</div> <div align="center">  For hitherto though I have lost all my time,</div> <div align="center">  Me lusteth no longer rotten boughs to climb.</div><br/><div align="center"> [[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/><div align="center"> <font color="#9900cc"><font color="#ffffff"><b>[[They flee from me]] that sometime did me seek</b></font></font></div> <div align="center">  With naked foot stalking in my chamber.</div> <div align="center">  I have seen them gentle tame and meek</div> <div align="center">  That now are wild and do not remember</div> <div align="center">  That sometime they put themselves in danger</div> <div align="center">  To take bread at my hand; and now they range</div> <div align="center">  Busily seeking with a continual change.</div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise</div> <div align="center">  Twenty times better; but once in special,</div> <div align="center">  In thin array after a pleasant guise,</div> <div align="center">  When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,</div> <div align="center">  And she me caught in her arms long and small;</div> <div align="center">  And therewithal sweetly did me kiss,</div> <div align="center">  And softly said, Dear heart, how like you this?</div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  It was no dream, I lay broad waking.</div> <div align="center">  But all is turned thorough my gentleness</div> <div align="center">  Into a strange fashion of forsaking;</div> <div align="center">  And I have leave to go of her goodness</div> <div align="center">  And she also to use newfangleness.</div> <div align="center">  But since that I so kindely am served,</div> <div align="center">  I would fain know what she hath deserved.<b> </b></div></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> </div></td> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <font size="3"><font face="Times" size="4">[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/>Who list his wealth and ease retain,<br/></font></font> <div align="center"> <font face="Times" size="4">Himself let him unknown contain.</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Times" size="4">Press not too fast in at that gate</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Times" size="4">Where the return stands by disdain,</font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="Times" size="4">For sure, <i>circa Regna tonat.</i></font></div><font size="3"> <br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="palatino" size="4">The high mountains are blasted oft<br/>When the low valley is mild and soft.<br/>Fortune with Health stands at debate.<br/>The fall is grievous from aloft.<br/>And sure, <i>circa Regna tonat.</i><br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="palatino" size="4"><font color="#ffa500">*T</font><font color="#ffa500">hese bloody days have broken my heart.<br/>My lust, my youth did them depart,<br/>And blind desire of estate.<br/>Who hastes to climb seeks to revert.<br/>Of truth, <i>circa Regna tonat.</i></font><br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="palatino" size="3"><font size="4">The bell tower showed me such sight<br/>That in my head sticks day and night.<br/>There did I learn out of a grate,<br/>For all favour, glory, or might,<br/>That yet <i>circa Regna tonat.</i></font><br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center"> <font face="palatino" size="3"><font size="4">By proof, I say, there did I learn:<br/>Wit helpeth not defence too yerne,<br/>Of innocency to plead or prate.<br/>Bear low, therefore, give God the stern,<br/>For sure, </font><i><font size="4">circa Regna tonat</font>.</i> <br/><br/><br/></font></div><font size="3"><i>[Written after his own incarceration in the </i></font><font size="3"><i>[[Tower of London]] in 1536 - circ regna tonat = around the throne thunder rolls]   <br/></i><font color="#ffa500">* [[Thomas Wyatt]] is seen writing these words in his cell as the five men are executed in Season 2 episode 9</font><i><br/></i></font></td></tr> <tr> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> [[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/>AND wilt thou leave me thus ? </div> <div align="center">  Say nay ! say nay ! for shame</div> <div align="center">  To save thee from the blame</div> <div align="center">  Of all my grief and grame.<font size="-1">1</font></div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffa500">And wilt thou leave me thus ?<br/></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffa500">Say nay ! Say nay !<br/><br/><br/></font></div> <div align="center">  And wilt thou leave me thus ? </div> <div align="center">  That hath lov'd thee so long ? </div> <div align="center">  In wealth and woe among : </div> <div align="center">  And is thy heart so strong </div> <div align="center">  As for to leave me thus ? </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  Say nay ! Say nay !</div> <div align="center">  And wilt thou leave me thus ? </div> <div align="center">  That hath given thee my heart </div> <div align="center">  Never for to depart ; </div> <div align="center">  Neither for pain nor smart : </div> <div align="center">  And wilt thou leave me thus ? </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  Say nay ! Say nay !</div> <div align="center">  And wilt thou leave me thus ? </div> <div align="center">  And have no more pity, </div> <div align="center">  Of him that loveth thee ? </div> <div align="center">  Alas ! thy cruelty ! </div> <div align="center">  And wilt thou leave me thus ? </div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  Say nay ! Say nay !<br/><br/><br/><font color="#ffa500">* [[Thomas Wyatt]] recites this poem to [[Anne Boleyn]] in Season 1 as he sits in a tree while she lays on the grass beneath him</font></div> <div align="center"> </div></td> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> [[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/>FORGET not yet the tried intent<br/>Of such a truth as I have meant ; <br/>My great travail so gladly spent, <br/>Forget not yet ! </div> <div align="center"> <br/>Forget not yet when first began <br/>The weary life ye know, since whan <br/>The suit, the service none tell can ; <br/>Forget not yet ! </div> <div align="center"> <br/>Forget not yet the great assays, <br/>The cruel wrong, the scornful ways, <br/>The painful patience in delays, <br/>Forget not yet ! </div> <div align="center"> <br/>Forget not ! oh ! forget not this, <br/>How long ago hath been, and is <br/>The mind that never meant amiss <br/>Forget not yet ! </div> <div align="center"> <br/>Forget not then thine own approv'd, <br/>The which so long hath thee so lov'd, <br/>Whose steadfast faith yet never mov'd : <br/>Forget not this ! </div></td></tr> <tr> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff"><b>[[File:JfAS6Mn8hAAlUzar9l2rqw25752.jpeg|247px|Lute]]</b></font><br/><font color="#ffffff"><b>My Lute Awake</b></font></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffffff">My labor that thou and I shall waste <br/>And end that I have now begun, <br/>For when this song is sung and past, <br/>My lute, be still, for I have done.<br/><br/>As to be heard where ear is none, <br/>As lead to grave in marble stone, <br/>My song may pierce her heart as soon. <br/>Should we then sigh or sing or moan? <br/>No, no, my lute, for I have done.<br/><br/>Proud of the spoil that thou hast got <br/>Of simple hearts through love's shot, <br/>By whom, unkind, thou hast them won, <br/>Think not he hath his bow forgot, <br/>Although my lute and I have done.<br/><br/>Vengance shall fall on thy disdain <br/>That makest but game on earnest pain; <br/>Think not alone under the sun <br/>Unquit to cause thy lovers plain <br/>Although my lute and I have done.<br/><br/>Perchance thee lie withered and old <br/>The winter nights that are so cold, <br/>Plaining in vain unto the moon; <br/>Thy wishes then dare not be told. <br/>Care then who list, for I have done.<br/><br/>And then may chance thee to repent <br/>The time that thou hast lost and spnt <br/>To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon; <br/>Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, <br/>And wish and want as I have done.<br/><br/>Now cease, my lute, this is the last <br/>Labor that thou and I shall waste <br/>And ended is that we begun. <br/>Now is the song both sung and past; <br/>My lute, be still, for I have done.</font> </div></td> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> [[File:FffH8lJnsMg WWL650ASbw21513.jpeg|169px|Golden Hind]]</div> <div align="center"> <font color="#996600"><font color="#ffffff"><b>My galley chargèd with forgetfulness </b><br/>Through sharp seas in winter nights doth pass <br/>'Twene rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas, <br/>That is my lord, steereth with cruelness. <br/>And every oar a thought in readiness <br/>As though that death were light in such a case; <br/>An endless wind doth tear the sail apace <br/>Of forcèd sighs and trusty fearfulness. <br/>A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain <br/>Hath done the wearied cords great hindrance, <br/>Wreathèd with error and eke with ignorance. <br/>The stars be hid that led me to this pain, <br/>Drownèd is reason that should me comfort, <br/>And I remain despairing of the port.</font> <br/><br/><br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/><br/><font color="#ffffff">In this also see you be not idle:</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">Thy niece, they cousin, thy sister or thy daughter,</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">If she be fair, if handsome by her middle,</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">If thy better hath her love besought her,</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">Advance his cause, and he shall help thy need,</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">It is but love, turn it to a laughter.</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">But 'ware, I say, so gold thee help and speed,</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">that in this case thou be no so unwise</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">As Pandar was in such a like deed:</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">For he, the fool, of conscience was so nice</font><br/><font color="#ffffff">That he no gain would have for all his pain.</font><br/><br/><font color="#ffffff" size="2"><i>[Thomas knew the value of a sister, daughter etc who caught the King's eye &amp; explained it to aspiring courtiers in this poem]</i></font></font></div> <div align="center"> </div></td></tr> <tr> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffa500" size="4">[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/><font size="3">*In Season 2 Episode 2, Wyatt recites 3 lines from the following poem which he puts in Lady [[Elizabeth Darrell]]'s pocket.It was <u><b>not</b></u> written by Wyatt at all. It is a poem by Sir Walter Raleigh</font></font><br/><br/><br/><br/><b><font size="4"><u><br/>"A poem put into Lady Laiton's pocket"</u></font></b><br/><br/><font size="3">Lady, farewell, whom I in silence serve!<br/><font color="#ffa500">Would God thou knewest the depth of my desire!<br/>Then might I wish though nought I can deserve,<br/>Some drops of grace to slake my scalding fire;</font><b><br/></b>But sith to live alone I have decreed,<br/>I'll spare to speak, that I may spare to speed!"</font></div></td> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <b>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/>The Courtier's Life</b></div> <div align="center"> </div> <div align="center">  In court to serve decked with fresh array, </div> <div align="center">  Of sugared meats feeling the sweet repast:</div> <div align="center">  The life in banquets, and sundry kinds of play, </div> <div align="center">  Amid the press of lordly looks to waste, </div> <div align="center">  Hath with it joined oft times such bitter taste. </div> <div align="center">  That who so enjoys such kind of life to hold, </div> <div align="center">  In prison joys fettered with chains of gold. <br/><br/><br/><br/>[[File:HmOoqFyWsiH1dNDe1xdbUg5526.gif|360px|curlycue]]<br/><br/><br/><b>The pillar perished is whereto I leant, </b><br/>Whereon the strongest stay of mine unquiet mind— <br/>The like of it no man again can find, <br/>From east to west, still seeking though he went: always<br/>To mine unhap! for hap away hath rent misfortune fortune <br/>Of all my joy the very bark and rind; <br/>And I, alas, by chance am thus assigned <br/>Dearlyº to mourn till death do it relent. keenly <br/>But since that thus it is by destiny, <br/>What can I more but have a woeful heart— <br/>My pen in plaint, my voice in woeful cry, lamentation <br/>My mind in woe, my body full of smart, <br/>And I my self, my self always to hate <br/>Till dreadful death do ease my doleful state? <br/><br/>(Wyatt's court elegy on the death of Thomas Cromwell, an imitation of Petrarch's own sonnet on Cardinal Colonna - <i>Rotta e l'alta colonna e 'l verde lauro </i>(Broken are the high column and the green laurel) - source: <i>The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell </i>by John Schofield and <i>The Cambridge History of Early English Literature</i>.)</div></td></tr> <tr> <td width="50%"> <div align="center"> <font color="#ffa500"><font color="#ffffff"><b>He Ruleth not though he reign over realms, that is subject to his own lusts</b></font></font><br/><font color="#ffa500"><br/>If thou wilt mighty be, flee from the rage<br/>Of cruel will, and see thou keep thee free<br/>From the foul yoke of sensual bondage;<br/></font>For though thy Empire stretch to Indian sea <br/>And for thy fear trembleth the farthest Thule,<br/>If thy desire have over thee the power,<br/>Subject then art thou and no governor. <br/><br/>If to be noble and high thy mind be moved,<br/>Consider well thy ground and thy beginning;<br/>For he that hath each star in heaven fixed,<br/>And gives the Moon her horns and her eclipsing, <br/>Alike hath made thee noble in his working:<br/>So that wretched no way thou may be,<br/>Except foul lust and vice do conquer thee. <br/><br/>All were it so thou had a flood of gold<br/>Unto thy thirst, yet should it not suffice;<br/>And though with Indian stones, a thousandfold<br/>More precious than can thy self devise <br/>Ycharged were thy back: thy covetise<br/>And busy biting yet should never let<br/>Thy wretched life, ne do thy death profit.<br/><br/></div> <div align="center"> </div><font color="#ffa500">*[[Mark Smeaton]] recites these words as [[Thomas Wyatt]] writes them in episode 8 of series 2.</font> </td> <td width="50%"><br/></td></tr></table><br/><table align="bottom" cellpadding="3" class="WPC-edit-border-all" width="750">  <tr> <td width="100%"> <br/><br/><b>Further Reading:</b> <br/><br/><ul> <li>  The standard edition of Wyatt's poetry is <i>Collected poems of Sir [[Thomas Wyatt]],</i> edited by Kenneth Muir (1949; rev. ed. 1969). It replaced the two-volume set edited by A. K. Foxwell in 1913 and reprinted in 1964. </li></ul><br/><ul> <li>  The standard biography is Muir's <i>The Life and Letters of Sir [[Thomas Wyatt]]</i> (1963). </li></ul><br/><b>Critical studies include :</b><br/><br/><ul> <li>  A. K. Foxwell, <i>A Study of Sir [[Thomas Wyatt]]'s Poems</i> (1911; repr. 1964);   </li><li>  Edmund K. Chambers, <i>Sir [[Thomas Wyatt]] and Some Collected Studies</i> (1933);   </li><li>  Catherine M. Ing, <i>Elizabethan Lyrics: A Study in the Development of English Metres and Their Relation to Poetic Effect</i> (1951);   </li><li>  Raymond Southall, <i>The Courtly Maker: An Essay in the Poetry of Wyatt and His Contemporaries</i> (1964);   </li><li>  Patricia Thomson, <i>Sir [[Thomas Wyatt]] and His Background</i> (1965). </li></ul></td></tr> <tr> <td width="100%"><br/></td></tr> <tr> <td width="100%"><br/></td></tr></table><br/><br/><div></div><br/><div></div><br/><div></div></div>