Şiir 17
Colony! fain to display thy games on length of thy town-bridge!
There, too, ready to dance, though fearing the shaking of crazy
Logs of the Bridgelet propt on pier-piles newly renewèd,
Lest supine all sink deep-merged in the marish’s hollow,
So may the bridge hold good when builded after thy pleasure
5
Where Salisúbulus’ rites with solemn function are sacred,
As thou (Colony!) grant me boon of mightiest laughter.
Certain a townsman mine I’d lief see thrown from thy gangway
Hurlèd head over heels precipitous whelmed in the quagmire,
Where the lake and the boglands are most rotten and stinking,
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Deepest and lividest lie, the swallow of hollow voracious.
Witless surely the wight whose sense is less than of boy-babe
Two-year-old and a-sleep on trembling forearm of father.
He though, wedded to girl in greenest bloom of her youth-tide,
(Bride-wife daintier bred than ever was delicate kidlet,
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Worthier diligent watch than grape-bunch blackest and ripest)
Suffers her sport as she please nor rates her even at hair’s worth,
Nowise ’stirring himself, but lying log-like as alder
Felled and o’er floating the fosse of safe Ligurian woodsman,
Feeling withal, as though such spouse he never had own’d;
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