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        2 POEMS BY BEN JONSON, AND ONE BY CHIEF JOSEPH




                       ON MY FIRST SON                             

                     by Ben Jonson (1616)                             

          Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;                   
            My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy.                    
          Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay,                 
            Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.                           
          Oh, could I lose all father now! For why                          
            Will man lament the state he should envy?                       
          To have so soon 'scaped world's and flesh's rage,                 
            And if no other misery, yet age!                                
          Rest in soft peace, and asked, say, Here doth lie                 
            Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry.                            
          For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such,                   
            As what he loves may never like too much.                       

                          --End--





                        TO CELIA                                

                   by Ben Jonson (1616)                             



            Drink to me only with thine eyes,                               
              And I will pledge with mine;                                  
            Or leave a kiss but in the cup                                  
              And I'll not look for wine.                                   
            The thirst that from the soul doth rise                         
              Doth ask a drink divine;                                      
            But might I of Jove's nectar sup,                               
              I would not change for thine.                                 

            I sent thee late a rosy wreath,                                 
              Not so much honouring thee                                    
            As giving it a hope that there                                  
              It could not wither'd be;                                     
            But thou thereon didst only breathe                             
              And sent'st it back to me;                                    
            Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,                       
              Not of itself but thee!                                       

                       --End--
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            

[Joseph, Chief (Indian name: Hinmaton-Yalaktit) (1840-1904)
American Indian chief of the Nez Perce tribe of Idaho. 
This speech was given upon the defeat and capture of his 
tribe in 1877 by Colonel Nelson A. Miles.]



             I WILL FIGHT NO MORE FOREVER
                        (Surrender Speech)

             by Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce (1877)                   


             I am tired of fighting.                                        
             Our chiefs are killed.                                         
             Looking Glass is dead.                                         
             Toohulhulsote is dead.                                         
             The old men are all dead.                                      
             It is the young men who say no and yes.                        
             He who led the young men is dead.                              
             It is cold and we have no blankets.                            
             The little children are freezing to death.                     
             My people, some of them,                                       
             Have run away to the hills                                     
             And have no blankets, no food.                                 
             No one know where they are-                                    
             Perhaps they are freezing to death.                            
             I want to have time to look for my children                    
             And see how many of them I can find.                           
             Maybe I shall find them among the dead.                        
             Hear me, my chiefs, I am tired.                                
             My heart is sad and sick.                                      
             From where the sun now stands                                  
             I will fight no more forever.                                  

                        --End--


Electronically Enhanced text.
Copyright http://www.ebooknet.com 1998, All Rights Reserved.
Permission is granted to make only 1 copy to disk and print 1 copy.