My soul, no longer trust in promised world
It's light a glass, its favours shifting waves
Which always winds prevent from calming.
Let us leave these vanities, their strife.
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Beautifully and well written poem which has given me much joy thanks
Ironically Malherbe died about ten years before the accession of the Sun king Louis X1V with all the excesses of that King's reign. Malherbe loved accuracy, not show! He knew how to write as one critic penned as his epitaph.
Reading this I am reminded of Shelley's poem Ozymandias where a traveler describes a statue he had seen in an antique land... the statue of a haughty king who once thought that he was the mightiest. But now what remains of him is only a statue on two legs with a trunk less body..... a colossal wreck. Below it, it is written..... 'My name is Ozymandias... king of kings'! Yes, all kingly powers will perish.... what will stay forever is God's love! So let us leave our vanities and turn to Him! Profound thoughts worthy of reflection!
Yes, Valsa. Shelley's wonderful poem is probably the best example of these ironies. Another that springs to mind is the half-finished statue of Stalin in Prague which the lady taking us to the University gleefully pointed out. Apparently he died as it was being erected, so they downed tools! Shelley and his wife Mary were extraordinarily intelligent. Mary's introduction to Shelley's Collected works is truly awesome. Of course she is remembered for Frankenstein but she was a truly modern woman in many ways, as was her mother, the original Bluestocking.