{"id":24,"date":"2004-03-02T09:50:02","date_gmt":"2004-03-02T09:50:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/?p=24"},"modified":"2018-03-04T22:31:26","modified_gmt":"2018-03-04T21:31:26","slug":"fear_no_more","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/2004\/03\/fear_no_more\/","title":{"rendered":"Fear no more"},"content":{"rendered":"

En estos tiempos oscuros en los que vivimos, me vuelven a atraer las poes\u00edas oscuras. Cuando Shakespeare estaba cercano a su muerte escribi\u00f3 la comedia Cymbeline<\/a>, donde compuso una canci\u00f3n para poner en labios de dos de los personajes mientras depositan el cuerpo difunto de su hermana. La cantante Loreena McKennitt<\/a> hizo una excelente versi\u00f3n cantada en su disco \u00abThe Visit\u00bb, os lo recomiendo. Esta es la parte de la obra donde se canta la canci\u00f3n (en rojo):<\/p>\n

Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead, bearing her in his arms<\/i>
\nARVIRAGUS
\nThe bird is dead
\nThat we have made so much on. I had rather
\nHave skipp’d from sixteen years of age to sixty,
\nTo have turn’d my leaping-time into a crutch,
\nThan have seen this.
\nGUIDERIUS
\nO sweetest, fairest lily!
\nMy brother wears thee not the one half so well
\nAs when thou grew’st thyself.
\nBELARIUS
\nO melancholy!
\nWho ever yet could sound thy bottom? find
\nThe ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare
\nMight easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing!
\nJove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I,
\nThou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy.
\nHow found you him?
\nARVIRAGUS
\nStark, as you see:
\nThus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber,
\nNot as death’s dart, being laugh’d at; his
\nright cheek
\nReposing on a cushion.
\nGUIDERIUS
\nWhere?
\nARVIRAGUS
\nO’ the floor;
\nHis arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put
\nMy clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness
\nAnswer’d my steps too loud.
\nGUIDERIUS
\nWhy, he but sleeps:
\nIf he be gone, he’ll make his grave a bed;
\nWith female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
\nAnd worms will not come to thee.
\nARVIRAGUS
\nWith fairest flowers
\nWhilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele,
\nI’ll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack
\nThe flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose, nor
\nThe azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor
\nThe leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
\nOut-sweeten’d not thy breath: the ruddock would,
\nWith charitable bill,–O bill, sore-shaming
\nThose rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
\nWithout a monument!–bring thee all this;
\nYea, and furr’d moss besides, when flowers are none,
\nTo winter-ground thy corse.
\nGUIDERIUS
\nPrithee, have done;
\nAnd do not play in wench-like words with that
\nWhich is so serious. Let us bury him,
\nAnd not protract with admiration what
\nIs now due debt. To the grave!
\nARVIRAGUS
\nSay, where shall’s lay him?
\nGUIDERIUS
\nBy good Euriphile, our mother.
\nARVIRAGUS
\nBe’t so:
\nAnd let us, Polydore, though now our voices
\nHave got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground,
\nAs once our mother; use like note and words,
\nSave that Euriphile must be Fidele.
\nGUIDERIUS
\nCadwal,
\nI cannot sing: I’ll weep, and word it with thee;
\nFor notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
\nThan priests and fanes that lie.
\nARVIRAGUS
\nWe’ll speak it, then.
\nBELARIUS
\nGreat griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten
\nIs quite forgot. He was a queen’s son, boys;
\nAnd though he came our enemy, remember
\nHe was paid for that: though mean and
\nmighty, rotting
\nTogether, have one dust, yet reverence,
\nThat angel of the world, doth make distinction
\nOf place ‘tween high and low. Our foe was princely
\nAnd though you took his life, as being our foe,
\nYet bury him as a prince.
\nGUIDERIUS
\nPray You, fetch him hither.
\nThersites’ body is as good as Ajax’,
\nWhen neither are alive.
\nARVIRAGUS
\nIf you’ll go fetch him,
\nWe’ll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin.
\nExit BELARIUS<\/i>
\nGUIDERIUS
\nNay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east;
\nMy father hath a reason for’t.
\nARVIRAGUS
\n‘Tis true.
\nGUIDERIUS
\nCome on then, and remove him.
\nARVIRAGUS
\nSo. Begin.
\nSONG<\/b><\/p>\n
GUIDERIUS
\nFear no more the heat o’ the sun,<\/span>
\n Nor the furious winter’s rages;<\/span>
\n Thou thy worldly task hast done,<\/span>
\n Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:<\/span>
\n Golden lads and girls all must,<\/span>
\n As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.<\/span>
\nARVIRAGUS
\nFear no more the frown o’ the great;<\/span>
\n Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;<\/span>
\n Care no more to clothe and eat;<\/span>
\n To thee the reed is as the oak:<\/span>
\n The sceptre, learning, physic, must<\/span>
\n All follow this, and come to dust.<\/span>
\nGUIDERIUS
\nFear no more the lightning flash,<\/span>
\nARVIRAGUS
\nNor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;<\/span>
\nGUIDERIUS
\nFear not slander, censure rash;<\/span>
\nARVIRAGUS
\nThou hast finish’d joy and moan:<\/span>
\nGUIDERIUS ARVIRAGUS
\nAll lovers young, all lovers must<\/span>
\n Consign to thee, and come to dust.<\/span>
\nGUIDERIUS
\nNo exorciser harm thee!
\nARVIRAGUS
\nNor no witchcraft charm thee!
\nGUIDERIUS
\nGhost unlaid forbear thee!
\nARVIRAGUS
\nNothing ill come near thee!
\nGUIDERIUS ARVIRAGUS
\nQuiet consummation have;
\nAnd renowned be thy grave!<\/div>\n

Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

En estos tiempos oscuros en los que vivimos, me vuelven a atraer las poes\u00edas oscuras. Cuando Shakespeare estaba cercano a su muerte escribi\u00f3 la comedia Cymbeline, donde compuso una canci\u00f3n para poner en labios de dos de los personajes mientras depositan el cuerpo difunto de su hermana. La cantante Loreena McKennitt hizo una excelente versi\u00f3n… Leer m\u00e1s »Fear no more<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"neve_meta_sidebar":"","neve_meta_container":"","neve_meta_enable_content_width":"","neve_meta_content_width":0,"neve_meta_title_alignment":"","neve_meta_author_avatar":"","neve_post_elements_order":"","neve_meta_disable_header":"","neve_meta_disable_footer":"","neve_meta_disable_title":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[967,968,966],"class_list":["post-24","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arte","tag-cymbeline","tag-loreena-mckennitt","tag-shakespeare"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=24"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2491,"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24\/revisions\/2491"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=24"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=24"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/junjan.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=24"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}