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Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained | |||
"To Henry Constable and Henry Keir" is a poem by Alexander Montgomerie, a Scottish poet and courtier who lived from 1556 to approximately 1610. The exact date of composition is unknown, but it was likely written in the late 16th century. Explanation: The poem is an epistle addressed to two friends, Henry Constable and Henry Keir. Montgomerie begins by praising their poetic talents and expressing his admiration for their work. He then goes on to discuss the nature of poetry and the importance of creating works that are both beautiful and morally uplifting. Montgomerie urges his friends to use their talents to inspire virtue in their readers and to avoid writing poetry that is vain or frivolous. He concludes by expressing his hope that their friendship will continue to flourish. Poetic Elements:
Conclusion: " To Henry Constable and Henry Keir" is an epistle by Alexander Montgomerie addressed to his two friends, in which he praises their poetic talents and urges them to use their gifts to promote virtue and morality. Through the use of elevated language and a formal structure, Montgomerie underscores the importance of poetry as a vehicle for inspiring noble ideals and creating lasting beauty. The poem thus serves as a testament to the power of friendship, poetry, and moral vision. *NOTES: Henry Constable (1562–1613) was an English poet and author who is best known for his religious poems and sonnets. He was a contemporary of Alexander Montgomerie and they were both members of the literary circle associated with the Earl of Oxford. Henry Keir, is an elusive figure, and it is unclear who exactly he was. Some scholars have suggested that he may have been a Scottish poet, but there is very little information about him beyond his name appearing in the title of Montgomerie's poem.
POEM TEXT: My worshippis twa, quhais poesie Rycht worthelye of auctoritie In Albion hes, throw ingyne And famous ornate phrase devyne, Rycht famouslie throw everie land Thair names and warkis dois ascendent stand; With langsum speiche and pen unworthie, I yow commend and your poesie. Thocht quhillom Venus beutie brycht To worthie poetis was delicht, And Mars the God armipotent, Quhilk with his bludie battillis blent The Romans oft and Greikis tauld, Did worthy poetis myndis enthrawld; Yit now, in this our learned age, Bot thei that schaw a philosophie sage With eloquence and knawledge fair, Makis now thair names and wirkingis rare. And yit I mervell, will to wit, How lang or that the schipp of wit, In Albion, rang and rychtlie raikkit, Hes bene to pot-housis pottis packit, Quhair greit renowne on ilk gude wyne Mair nor on poesie dois schyne. O, wickit worlde, and more than wickit, The quhilk from vertew hes the hertis lickit. O poesie, divyne ingyne, Faire mirrour of all hevinlie schyne, Quhairin as in a figure cleir All that is hevinlie dois appeir, And canst, throuch thy delicious suete, A thousand hertis at thy biddis meite; How sould the beir and brig of dyke, Or Bacchus wyne, or Venus fyke, Or yit the bagatelle of feidis, Quhilk fowill tongues to men concludes, Contend with the, quhais haly mynd The mervellis of the hevin can fynd. O poesie, thow hevinly quene, How suete it is to luke and sene The sacred figures of thy sprauchle, And lystein quhair thy musik crauchle! Quhat is the heavin, quhat is the mone, Quhat ar the sternis, schynyng abone, Bot splendid wordis of thy devise, Quhilk thou hes knit up with the skies? For he that schawis thy fame so fair, The lytill warlde can weill declair; And he that wandis far and wyde, All parts of erth dois in the gyde Of thy cunings and thy wisdome, And makis thame ever to thy serwis dumb. O poesie, in whais suet cunyie All hevinlie giftis and grace dois runyie, Quhilk hes the pith to schaw and hald The haly pepill from syn and scald, Quha can thyne impis leiff at lerge, Or follow on with curage erge, With hie brychtnes of fantasye, Quhilk dois our febill myndis guye, Unto the celestiall hous of hevin, Quhair cherubyn and seraphyn, And angellis hevinlie, namlie queir, In hie devois thy prays do cheir. Bot gif the be or schort or wrang, Or in thy musik may discord strang Be fundin; or yit in thy sentens, Sleip, rudnes, or obscuritie, thens Thee sould we schunt as contrair thing, That cumis of nane of hevinly spring. Bot sen thyne arte sa perfyte is, And seldome failis, bot mony wis The wordis on thy musik stayis, And with thy pith sumtyme awayis; Gif all the warlde suld thame condemne, Thou art the thing that I esteeme Maist haly and maist heavinlie, And quhais schaip and vertew fulllelye, In fyne, is formit of the dust Of angellis, and of Godis awin lust. Copyright (c) 2025 PoetryExplorer | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOLSEQUIUM by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE MAY-MORN AND CUPID, FR. THE CHERRY AND THE SLAE by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE AWAY VANE WORLD by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST THE SONG OF A HEATHEN by RICHARD WATSON GILDER TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER by BEN JONSON GENTLEMEN-RANKERS by RUDYARD KIPLING THE FIGHT OF THE ARMSTRONG PRIVATEER by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE ODE IN MEMORY OF THE AMERICAN VOLUNTEERS FALLEN FOR FRANCE by ALAN SEEGER THE STORM by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE DOOMSDAY: TREASURES IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) |
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