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A Collection Of Random Facts... hopefully, a few are interesting
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#931062 added March 20, 2018 at 1:31pm
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A Poet Is Released From Prison
March 20, 1616
Sir Walter Raleigh

On this date, in the year, 1616... Sir Walter Raleigh was released from the Bloody Tower of the infamous Tower of London (his first trip there.) One of Great Brittan’s most notable, he is number 93 on The BBC’s 2002 documentary “The 100 Greatest Britons.”

Sir Raleigh and his secreted wife were imprisoned for getting married without Queen Elizabeth I’s permission. Although rumored, the Queen was more upset, with her alleged consort, over his getting, Elizabeth "Bess" Throckmorton, pregnant. The maiden was one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting and 11 years Sir Raleigh's junior.

The man led an eventful life, often labeled a rogue by his contemporaries, he served as a soldier, politician, courtier, spy, and explorer. Sir Raleigh’s life and times could fill a dozen volumes and never leave the reader drowsy.

But one of the more interesting often overlooked facts is that he was one of us. An author, writer, and poet. One of his published works, DISCOVERY OF GUIANA, is the origin of the "Legend of EL DORADO."

But his poetry, purportedly by him, written as an act of leisure and jest. It is surprisingly good. In honor of his being someone noteworthy in today’s history, I offer one of his Poems. A response to and parody of the poem "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love" (1593) by Christopher Marlowe.

The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd (1596), by Sir Walter Raleigh,

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

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