Sweet Rose of Virtue: William Dunbar Translation

Sweet Rose of Virtue by William Dunbar (c. 1460-1530) loose translation/modernization/interpretation by Michael R. Burch after William Dunbar Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness, delightful lily of youthful wantonness, richest in bounty and in beauty clear and in every virtue that is held most dear— except only that you are merciless. Into your garden, today, I followed you; there I saw flowers of freshest hue, both white and red, delightful to see, and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently— yet everywhere, no odor but rue. I fear that March with his last arctic blast has slain my fair rose of pallid and gentle cast, whose piteous death does my heart such pain that, if I could, I would compose her roots again— so comforting her bowering leaves have been. "Sweet Rose of Virtue" has been described as a "lovely, elegant poem in the amour courtois tradition" or courtly love tradition. According to Tom Scott, author of "Dunbar: A Critical Exposition of the Poems," this poem is "Dunbar's most perfect lyric, and one of the supreme lyrics in Scots and English." William Dunbar [c. 1460-1530] has been called the Poet Laureate of the court of King James IV of Scotland. Keywords/Tags: Scot, Scots, Scottish, Translation, Modernization, Interpretation, Makar, Makaris, Sonnet, Iambic Pentameter, Quintains, Courtly Tradition, Carpe Diem, Garden, Rose, Lily, Herbs, Rue, Virtue, Bower, Bowers, Bowering These are my modern English translations of the great Scottish poet William Dunbar. Lament for the Makaris (“Lament for the Makers, or Poets”) by William Dunbar loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch i who enjoyed good health and gladness am overwhelmed now by life’s terrible sickness and enfeebled with infirmity; the fear of Death dismays me! our presence here is mere vainglory; the false world is but transitory; the flesh is frail; the Fiend runs free; how the fear of Death dismays me! the state of man is changeable: now sound, now sick, now blithe, now dull, now manic, now devoid of glee; and the fear of Death dismays me! no state on earth stands here securely; as the wild wind waves the willow tree, so wavers this world’s vanity; and the fear of Death dismays me! Death leads the knights into the field (unarmored under helm and shield) sole Victor of each red mêlée; and the fear of Death dismays me! that strange, despotic Beast tears from its mother’s breast the babe, full of benignity; and the fear of Death dismays me! He takes the champion of the hour, the captain of the highest tower, the beautiful damsel in full flower; how the fear of Death dismays me! He spares no lord for his elegance, nor clerk for his intelligence; His dreadful stroke no man can flee; and the fear of Death dismays me! artist, magician, scientist, orator, debater, theologist, all must conclude, so too, as we: “the fear of Death dismays me!” in medicine the most astute sawbones and surgeons all fall mute; they cannot save themselves, or flee, and the fear of Death dismays me! i see the Makers among the unsaved; the greatest of Poets all go to the grave; He does not spare them their faculty, and the fear of Death dismays me! i have seen Him pitilessly devour our noble Chaucer, poetry’s flower, and Lydgate and Gower (great Trinity!); how the fear of Death dismays me! since He has taken my brothers all, i know He will not let me live past the fall; His next victim will be —poor unfortunate me!— and how the fear of Death dismays me! there is no remedy for Death; we must all prepare to relinquish breath, so that after we die, we may no more plead: “the fear of Death dismays me!” Keywords/Tags: Dunbar, William Dunbar, Scotland, Scot, Scottish, poet, Scots dialect, rose, virtue, lament, makaris, makers, poets, elegy, eulogy, death PRINCESS DIANA POEMS, including a version of "Sweet Rose of Virtue" slightly altered in tribute Sweet Rose of Virtue, for Princess Diana by William Dunbar 1460-1525 loose translation by Michael R. Burch Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness, delightful lily of youthful wantonness, richest in bounty and in beauty clear and in every virtue that is held most dear— except only that death is merciless. Into your garden, today, I followed you; there I saw flowers of freshest hue, both white and red, delightful to see, and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently— yet everywhere, no odor but rue. I fear that March with his last arctic blast has slain our fair rose of pallid and gentle cast, whose piteous death does my heart such pain that, if I could, I would compose her roots again— so comforting her bowering leaves have been. Fairest Diana by Michael R. Burch Fairest Diana, princess of dreams, born to be loved and yet distant and lone, why did you linger?so solemn, so lovely? an orchid ablaze in a crevice of stone? Was not your heart meant for tenderest passions? Surely your lips?for wild kisses, not vows! Why then did you languish, though lustrous, becoming a pearl of enchantment cast before sows? Fairest Diana, as fragile as lilac, as willful as rainfall, as true as the rose; how did a stanza of silver-bright verse come to be bound in a book of dull prose? Will There Be Starlight for Princess Diana by Michael R. Burch Will there be starlight tonight while she gathers damask and lilac and sweet-scented heathers? And will she find flowers, or will she find thorns guarding the petals of roses unborn? Will there be starlight tonight while she gathers seashells and mussels and albatross feathers? And will she find treasure or will she find pain at the end of this rainbow of moonlight on rain? I Pray Tonight for Princess Diana by Michael R. Burch I pray tonight the starry light might surround you. I pray by day that, come what may, no dark thing confound you. I pray ere tomorrow an end to your sorrow. May angels' white chorales sing, and astound you.