Sir+Thomas+Wyatt

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=Sir Thomas Wyatt=



Sir thomas Wy att was one of the greatest poets of the early 1500s. By translating Latin at an early age, Wyatt gained a love of poetry which he kept with him for the rest of his life. he often used poetry as a self-examination of his own fast-paced life as a foreign diplomat. Included in some of his works are: ====Like many of the great writers throughout the centuries, the majority of Sir Thomas Wyatt's were not released or discovered until after his death. Sir Thomas was educated at St. John's College and after school he began carrying out a variety of foreign missions for King Henry VIII. Wyatt married Elizabeth Brooke around the same time, when he was 1==== ====7 years old. After separating from his wife he accompanied Sir John Russel on a number of diplomatic missions to France and Italy before becoming the Commissioner of Peace of Essex in 1532. He was then knighted in 1535, but was imprisoned a year later for fighting with the Duke of Suffolk. While in prison Wyatt wrote //V. Innocetia Veritas Viat Fides Circumdederunt me inimici mei,// a poem about his own fast-paced life. In May of 1540, Wyatt wrote //Mine Own John Poins// about his country, his life, and his experiences in foreign courts. Sir Thmoas was then charged with treason in 1541 by Edmund Bonner, who claimed Wyatt was slandering the king's name. The charges were eventually dropped, and Sir Thomas was released. However, on his return home, he fell ill and eventually died in 1542. It wasn't until 15 years later that the bulk of Wyatt's works were released to the public, most notably his poetry.====
 * The Long Love That in My Thought Doth Harbor
 * Yet Was I never Of Your Love Aggrieved
 * Unstable Dream, According to the Place

media type="custom" key="11149002" They flee from me that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild and do not remember That sometime they put themself in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking with a continual change.

Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise Twenty times better; but once in __special__, In thin array after a pleasant guise, When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall, And she me caught in her arms long and small; Therewithall sweetly did me kiss And softly said, “Dear heart, how like you this?”

It was no dream: I lay broad waking. But all is turned thorough my gentleness Into a strange fashion of forsaking; And I have leave to go of her goodness, And she also, to use newfangleness. But since that I so kindly am served I would fain know what she hath deserved.

media type="file" key="Whoso List to Hunt-Sir Thomas Wyatt.m4a" width="300" height="50"
 * Whoso List To Hunt**

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, //hélas//, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that farthest cometh 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, Sithens 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 Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

for full text: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174858 http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174862 []