Poem of the Day

The hunting poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt were mentioned in Possession so I went looking for one. This is the first one I came across and sure enough, the phrase noli me tangere (which was mentioned in the book) is in this poem.

By the way, according to Wikipedia:

“Noli Me Tangere is the Latin version of the words spoken, according to the Gospel of John, by Jesus to Mary Magdalen, meaning “touch me not” (the quotation appears in John 20:17). The words were a popular trope in Gregorian chant, and the moment in which they were spoken was a popular subject for paintings.

Its modern English meaning is Do not disturb/interfere. It has been argued that the Greek original is better represented by a translation of cease from holding on to me, signifying that Jesus is saying that although he is risen he has not returned in the same form that he left and that he will soon ascend, but presaging the sending of the Spirit.

See John 20:16 for a discussion of the preceding verse.”

Whoso list to hunt? I know where is an hind!
By Sir Thomas Wyatt

Whoso list to hunt? I know where is an hind!
But as for me, alas! I may no more,
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore;
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow; I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt
As well as I, may spend his time in vain!
And graven with diamonds in letters plain,
There is written her fair neck round about;
‘Noli me tangere; for Cæsar’s I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.’

Let’s go with a sonnet today.

Farewell, love, and all thy laws forever
By Sir Thomas Wyatt

Farewell, love, and all thy laws forever,
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.
Senec and Plato call me from thy lore
To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavor.
In blind error when I did persever,
Thy sharp repulse that pricketh aye so sore
Taught me in trifles that I set no store,
But scape forth, since liberty is lever.
Therefore, farewell, go trouble younger hearts,
And in me claim no more authority;
With idle youth go use thy property,
And thereon spend thy many brittle darts.
   For hitherto though I have lost my time,
   Me list no longer rotten boughs to climb.

I especially love the last line of this poem.

My galley charged with forgetfulness
By Sir Thomas Wyatt

My galley charged with forgetfulness
Through sharp seas in winter nights doth pass
Tween rock and rock, and eke my foe (alas)
That is my lord, steereth with cruelness.
And every oar, a thought in readiness,
As though that death were light in such a case;
An endless wind doth tear the sail apace
Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness;
A rain of tears, a cloud of dark distain,
Have done the wearied cords great hinderance;
Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance,
The stars be hid that lead me to this pain.
   Drowned is reason that should be my comfort,
   And I remain, despairing of the port.