01.05.2012, 11:23
Kit Marlowe
BECAUSE, three hundred years ago to-day,
A spirit that dull custom could not tame -
A soul of fire that had no part in shame,
Nor recked what babbling tongues of men might say,
But trod its wild and self-elected way
Fearless, and left the rest to love and fame -
Sprang from unworthy earth like leaping flame
But left a name that envy cannot slay ;
Therefore we meet, strange mixture of divine
And human, to do honour to your shade ;
Prince of Bohemia, scôp whose lips have made
Our English verse like draughts of fiery wine ;
Our godlike brother, you whose words have been
Fierce joy to us, be with us, though unseen.
BECAUSE, three hundred years ago to-day,
A spirit that dull custom could not tame -
A soul of fire that had no part in shame,
Nor recked what babbling tongues of men might say,
But trod its wild and self-elected way
Fearless, and left the rest to love and fame -
Sprang from unworthy earth like leaping flame
But left a name that envy cannot slay ;
Therefore we meet, strange mixture of divine
And human, to do honour to your shade ;
Prince of Bohemia, scôp whose lips have made
Our English verse like draughts of fiery wine ;
Our godlike brother, you whose words have been
Fierce joy to us, be with us, though unseen.