Kochanowski, Jan Lament XII http://www.wolnelektury.pl/lektura/laments http://wolnelektury.pl/katalog/lektura/treny-tren-xii/ Prall, Dorothea Kozioł, Paweł Lech, Justyna Niedziałkowska, Marta Fundacja Nowoczesna Polska Renesans Liryka Tren Publikacja zrealizowana w ramach projektu Wolne Lektury (http://wolnelektury.pl). Reprodukcja cyfrowa wykonana przez Bibliotekę Narodową z egzemplarza pochodzącego ze zbiorów BN. Dofinansowano ze środków Ministra Kultury i Dziedzictwa Narodowego. http://wolnelektury.pl/katalog/lektura/laments-lament-xii http://polona.pl/item/333575/1/ Jan Kochanowski, Laments, University of California Press, Berkeley 1920 Domena publiczna - Dorothea Prall xml text text 2014-11-18 enghttp://redakcja.wolnelektury.pl/media/cover/image/1348517236_7efd498da5_o.jpg Shadows, John Salvino, CC BY-SA 2.0 http://redakcja.wolnelektury.pl/cover/image/3798 Jan Kochanowski Laments Lament XII I think no father under any sky/ More fondly loved a daughter than did I,/ And scarcely ever has a child been born/ Whose loss her parents could more justly mourn./ Unspoiled and neat, obedient at all times,/ She seemed already versed in songs and rhymes,/ And with a highborn courtesy and art,/ Though but a babe, she played a maiden's part./ Discreet and modest, sociable and free/ From jealous habits, docile, mannerly,/ She never thought to taste her morning fare/ Until she should have said her morning prayer;/ She never went to sleep at night until/ She had prayed God to save us all from ill./ She used to run to meet her father when/ He came from any journey home again;/ She loved to work and to anticipate/ The servants of the house ere they could wait/ Upon her parents. This she had begun/ When thirty months their little course had run./ So many virtues and such active zeal/ Her youth could not sustain; she fell from weal/ Ere harvest. Little ear of wheat, thy prime/ Was distant; 'tis before thy proper time/ I sow thee once again in the sad earth,/ Knowing I bury with thee hope and mirth./ For thou wilt not spring up when blossoms quicken/ But leave mine eyes forever sorrow-stricken.