lirik lagu gideon wagner - john donne - the storm
thou which art i, (’tis nothing to be so)
thou which art still thyself, by these shalt know
part of our passage; and, a hand, or eye
by hilliard drawn, is worth an history
by a worse painter made; and (without pride)
when by thy judgement they are dignified
my lines are such: ’tis the pre~eminence
of friendship only to impute excellence
england to whom we owe, what we be, and have
sad that her sons did seek a foreign grave
(for, fate’s, or fortune’s drifts none can soothsay
honour and misery havе one face and way)
from out her prеgnant entrails sighed a wind
which at th’ air’s middle marble room did find
such strong resistance, that itself it threw
downward again; and so when it did view
how in the port, our fleet dear time did leese
withering like prisoners, which lie but for fees
mildly it kissed our sails, and, fresh and sweet
as to a stomach starved, whose insides meet
meat comes, it came; and swole our sails, when we
so joyed, as sara her swelling joyed to see
but ’twas but so kind, as our countrymen
which bring friends one day’s way, and leave them then
then like two mighty kings, which dwelling far
asunder, meet against a third to war
the south and west winds joined, and, as they blew
waves like a rolling trench before them threw
sooner than you read this line, did the gale
like shot, not feared till felt, our sails assail;
and what at first was called a gust, the same
hath now a storm’s, anon a tempest’s name
jonas, i pity thee, and curse those men
who when the storm raged most, did wake thee then;
sleep is pain’s easiest salve, and doth fulfil
all offices of death, except to k!ll
but when i waked, i saw, that i saw not
i, and the sun, which should teach me had forgot
east, west, day, night, and i could only say
if the world had lasted, now it had been day
thousands our noises were, yet we ‘mongst all
could none by his right name, but thunder call:
lightning was all our light, and it rained more
than if the sun had drunk the sea before
some coffined in their cabins lie, equally
grieved that they are not dead, and yet must die
and as sin~burdened souls from graves will creep
at the last day, some forth their cabins peep:
and tremblingly ask what news, and do hear so
like jealous husbands, what they would not know
some sitting on the hatches, would seem there
with hideous gazing to fear away fear
then note they the ship’s sicknesses, the mast
shaked with this ague, and the hold and waist
with a salt dropsy clogged, and all our tacklings
snapping, like too high stretched treble strings
and from our tottered sails, rags drop down so
as from one hanged in chains, a year ago
even our ordnance placed for our defence
strive to break loose, and ’scape away from thence
pumping hath tired our men, and what’s the gain?
seas into seas thrown, we suck in again;
hearing hath deafed our sailors; and if they
knew how to hear, there’s none knows what to say
compared to these storms, death is but a qualm
h~ll somewhat lightsome, and the bermuda calm
darkness, light’s elder brother, his birth~right
claims o’er this world, and to heaven hath chased light
all things are one, and that one none can be
since all forms, uniform deformity
doth cover, so that we, except god say
another fiat , shall have no more day
so violent, yet long these furies be
that though thine absence starve me, i wish not thee
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