Edward de Vere, José Gautier Benítez, Alexander Ostrovski, Guillaume-Thomas Raynal

De Engelse hoveling, dichter en toneelschrijver Edward de Vere, 17e graaf van Oxford, werd geboren op 12 april 1550 in Castle Hedingham. Zie ook alle tags voor Edward de Vere op dit blog.

The Meeting With Desire

The lively lark stretched forth her wing
The messenger of Morning bright;
And with her cheerful voice did sing
The Day’s approach, discharging Night;
When that Aurora blushing red,
Descried the guilt of Thetis’ bed.

I went abroad to take the air,
And in the meads I met a knight,
Clad in carnation colour fair;
I did salute this gentle wight:
Of him I did his name inquire,
He sighed and said it was Desire.

Desire I did desire to stay;
And while with him I craved talk,
The courteous knight said me no nay,
But hand in hand with me did walk;
Then of Desire I ask’d again,
What things did please and what did pain.

He smiled and thus he answered than [then]:
Desire can have no greater pain,
Than for to see another man,
The things desired to attain;
Nor greater joy can be than this:
That to enjoy that others miss.

Edward de Vere (12 april 1550 – 24 juni 1604)

Rhys Ifans als Edward De Vere in de film Anonymous uit 2011.


De Puertoricaanse dichter José Gautier Benítez werd geboren op 12 april 1848 in Caguas. Zie ook alle tags voorJosé Gautier Benítez op dit blog.

Uit: Puerto Rico (Fragment)

You have — the sugar cane on the fertile savannah^
A lake of honey that undulates in the breeze,
While the foam of its graceful beard
Sways like a white plume.
And the palm that rocks in the air
Encloses in its hanging jar
The pure liquid of its aerial fountain:
And on the broad slope of your forests,
Where the cedar and the pendola reign,
Shines the charming garland of the coffee tree,
From the bent branch of which the berries of crimson and emerald
Bow to the ground.

You have your delightful nights.
That foretell to the heart happy love;
And murmuring springs of silver
In a garden of lilies and roses;
Turtledoves that complain in the forests,
Like sorrowful sighs;
Doves and troupials and mockingbirds.
That nest in the flowering limes.
In you, everything is happy and light,
Sweet, peaceful, caressing, and mild;
And your inner world owes its enchantment
To the sweet influence of the world without.

José Gautier Benítez (12 april 1848 – 24 januari 1880)

Standbeeld in Caguas, Puerto Rico


De Russische toneelschrijver Alexander Nikolajewitsj Ostrovski werd geboren op 12 april 1823 in Moskou. Zie ook alle tags voorAlexander Ostrovski op dit blog.


Uit:The Storm (Vertaald door Constance Garnett)


Oh, I daresay!


What do you mean by that? I am reckoned a tough one to deal with. Why do you suppose he keeps me on? Because he can’t do without me, to be sure. Well, then, I’ve no need to be afraid of him; let him be afraid of me.


Why, doesn’t he swear at you?


Swear at me! Of course; he can’t breathe without that. But I don’t give way to him: if he says one word, I say ten; he curses and goes off. No, I’m not going to lick the dust for him.


What, follow his example! You’d do better to bear it in patience.


Come, I say, if you’re so wise, teach him good manners first and then we’ll learn! It’s a pity his daughters are all children, there’s not one grown-up girl among them.


What if there were?


I should treat him as he deserves if there were. I’m a devil of a fellow among the girls!“


Alexander Ostrovski (12 april 1823 – 14 juni 1886)
Portret door Vasily Perov, 1871


De Franse schrijver Guillaume-Thomas Raynal (Abbé Raynal ) werd geboren op 12 april 1713 in Lapanouse de Séverac. Zie ook alle tags voor Guillaume-Thomas Raynal op dit blog.

Uit: On Oppression & the Rise of Black Leadership

„Your slaves stand in no need either of your generosity or your counsels, in order to break the sacrilegious yoke of their oppression. Nature speaks a more powerful language than philosophy or interest . . . There are so many indications of the impending storm, and the Negroes want only a chief, sufficiently courageous, to lead them on to vengeance and slaughter. Who is this great man, whom nature owes to her afflicted, oppressed, and tormented children? Where is he? He will undoubtedly appear, he will show himself, he will lift up the sacred standard of liberty.

This venerable signal will collect around him the companions of his misfortunes. They will rush on with more impetuosity than torrents; they will leave behind them, in all parts, indelible traces of their just resentment. Spaniards, Portuguese, English, French, Dutch, all their tyrants will become the victims of fire and sword. The planes of America will suck up with transport the blood which they have so long expected, and the bones of so many wretches, heaped upon one another, during the course of so many centuries, will bound for joy. The Old World will join its plaudits to those of the New.“

Guillaume-Thomas Raynal (12 april 1713 – 6 maart 1796)