Hero and Leander E-Book

Christopher Marlowe

• Herausgeber: DigiCat
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Christopher Marlowe's 'Hero and Leander' is a beautifully crafted narrative poem that explores themes of love, desire, and tragedy. Set in the ancient world, Marlowe's rich language and vivid imagery create a vivid picture of the ill-fated romance between the beautiful Hero and the handsome Leander. The poem's lyrical style and intricate storytelling mirror the work of other Elizabethan poets such as William Shakespeare and Edmund Spenser, making it a significant piece of literature from the period. The contrast between the purity of Hero's love and the reckless passion of Leander's desire adds depth to the characters and their tragic fate. Marlowe's use of poetic devices such as metaphor and allusion enhances the reader's understanding of the complexities of love and human emotion. Christopher Marlowe, a contemporary of William Shakespeare, was known for his innovative and daring approach to literature. His own tumultuous life, marked by controversy and scandal, likely influenced his exploration of themes such as love and betrayal in 'Hero and Leander'. Marlowe's reputation as a groundbreaking playwright and poet shines through in this work, as he pushes the boundaries of traditional storytelling and poetic form. I highly recommend 'Hero and Leander' to readers who appreciate rich language, complex characters, and timeless themes. Marlowe's poetic masterpiece offers a poignant and thought-provoking exploration of love and its consequences, making it a must-read for any lover of classical literature.

Leseprobe

Christopher Marlowe

Hero and Leander

 

EAN 8596547320319

DigiCat, 2022 Contact: [email protected]

Table of Contents

Cover

Titlepage

Text

On Hellespont, guilty of true-love's blood, In view and opposite two cities stood, Sea-borderers, disjoined by Neptune's might; The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight. At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair, Whom young Apollo courted for her hair, And offered as a dower his burning throne, Where she should sit for men to gaze upon. The outside of her garments were of lawn, The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn; Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove, Where Venus in her naked glory strove To please the careless and disdainful eyes Of proud Adonis, that before her lies. Her kirtle blue, whereon was many a stain, Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain. Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath, From whence her veil reached to the ground beneath. Her veil was artificial flowers and leaves Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives. Many would praise the sweet smell as she passed, When 'twas the odour which her breath forth cast; And there for honey bees have sought in vain, And, beat from thence, have lighted there again. About her neck hung chains of pebblestone, Which, lightened by her neck, like diamonds shone. She ware no gloves; for neither sun nor wind Would burn or parch her hands, but to her mind, Or warm or cool them, for they took delight To play upon those hands, they were so white. Buskins of shells, all silvered used she, And branched with blushing coral to the knee; Where sparrows perched of hollow pearl and gold, Such as the world would wonder to behold. Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills, Which, as she went, would chirrup through the bills. Some say for her the fairest Cupid pined And looking in her face was strooken blind. But this is true: so like was one the other, As he imagined Hero was his mother. And oftentimes into her bosom flew, About her naked neck his bare arms threw, And laid his childish head upon her breast, And, with still panting rocked, there took his rest. So lovely fair was Hero, Venus' nun, As Nature wept, thinking she was undone, Because she took more from her than she left, And of such wondrous beauty her bereft. Therefore, in sign her treasure suffered wrack, Since Hero's time hath half the world been black.

Amorous Leander, beautiful and young, (whose tragedy divine Musaeus sung,) Dwelt at Abydos; since him dwelt there none For whom succeeding times make greater moan. His dangling tresses, that were never shorn, Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne, Would have allured the vent'rous youth of Greece To hazard more than for the golden fleece. Fair Cynthia wished his arms might be her sphere; Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there. His body was as straight as Circe's wand; Jove might have sipped out nectar from his hand. Even as delicious meat is to the taste, So was his neck in touching, and surpassed The white of Pelop's shoulder. I could tell ye How smooth his breast was and how white his belly; And whose immortal fingers did imprint That heavenly path with many a curious dint That runs along his back, but my rude pen Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men, Much less of powerful gods. Let it suffice That my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes, Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his That leaped into the water for a kiss Of his own shadow and, despising many, Died ere he could enjoy the love of any. Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen Enamoured of his beauty had he been. His presence made the rudest peasant melt That in the vast uplandish country dwelt. The barbarous Thracian soldier, moved with nought, Was moved with him and for his favour sought. Some swore he was a maid in man's attire, For in his looks were all that men desire, A pleasant smiling cheek, a speaking eye, A brow for love to banquet royally; And such as knew he was a man, would say, "Leander, thou art made for amorous play. Why art thou not in love, and loved of all? Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall."