Ben Jonson Poems on Nature (16 Poems)

A Pindaric Ode (Ben Jonson Poems)

THE TURN Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year, When the prodigious Hannibal did crown His rage with razing your immortal town. Thou looking then … Continue reading →

XIII: Epistle: To Katherine, Lady Aubigny (Ben Jonson Poems)

‘Tis growne almost a danger to speake true Of any good minde, now: There are so few.The bad, by number, are so fortified, As what th’have lost t’expect, they dare deride.So both the prais’d, and praisers suffer: Yet, For others … Continue reading →

Ode (Ben Jonson Poems)

To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair, Sir LuciusCary and Sir Henry Morison. I. THE TURN. Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year,When the prodigious Hannibal did crownHis cage, with razing … Continue reading →

III: To Sir Robert Wroth (Ben Jonson Poems)

How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth, Whether by choyce, or fate, or both!And, though so neere the Citie, and the Court, Art tane with neithers vice, nor sport:That at great times, art no ambitious guest Of Sheriffes … Continue reading →

To Penshurst (Ben Jonson Poems)

Thou art not, Penshurst, built to envious show, Of touch, or marble; nor canst boast a rowOf polish’d pillars, or a roofe of gold: Thou hast no lantherne, whereof tales are told;Or stayre, or courts; but stand’st an ancient pile, … Continue reading →

To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H. Morison (Ben Jonson Poems)

The Turn Brave infant of Saguntum, clearThy coming forth in that great year,When the prodigious Hannibal did crownHis rage, with razing your immortal town.Thou looking then aboutEre thou wert half got out,Wise child, didst hastily return,And mad’st thy mother’s womb … Continue reading →

To the Memory of My Beloved Author, Mr. William Shakespeare (Ben Jonson Poems)

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor muse can praise too much; ’Tis true, … Continue reading →

To the Memory of My Beloved, The Author, Mr. William Shakespeare, (Ben Jonson Poems)

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor Muse can praise too much.`Tis true, and all men`s suffrage. But these … Continue reading →

The Speech (Ben Jonson Poems)

The long laments I spent for ruin’d Troy,Are dried; and now mine eyes run teares of joy.No more shall men suppose Electra dead,Though from the consort of her sisters fledUnto the Artick circle, here to grace,And gild this day with … Continue reading →

My Picture Left in Scotland (Ben Jonson Poems)

I now think Love is rather deaf than blind, For else it could not be That she, Whom I adore so much, should so slight me And cast my love behind. I’m … Continue reading →