Robert Wever

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Robert Wever (fl. c. 1550) was an English poet of the 16th century about whom little biographical information has survived. His poem, often titled by its refrain, "In Youth is Pleasure", from his only known work An Enterlude called Lusty Juventus (1557), is a popular and remembered anthology piece, and has been several times set to music.

Quotes

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In youth is pleasure.
  • For as much as man is naturally prone.
    To evil from his youth, as scripture doth recite,
    It is necessary that he be spedely withdrawen,
    Frome concupiscence of syn, his naturall appetite,
    And ordre to bryng up youth, Ecclesiasticus doth writ[e],
    An untamed horse, wyl be harde saith he,
    And a wanton chylde wilfull wyl be.
    • An Enterlude called lusty Juventus (1565), The Prologue of the Messenger
    • Cp. Ecclesiasticus 30:8: "An horse not broken becometh headstrong: and a child left to himself will be wilful." (KJV)
      Genesis 8:21: "The imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth." (KJV)
    • Modernised text:
      For as much as man is naturally prone
      To evil from his youth, as Scripture doth recite,
      It is necessary that he be speedily withdrawn
      From concupiscence of sin, his natural appetite:
      An order to bring up youth Ecclesiasticus doth write,
      An untamed horse will be hard, saith he,
      And a wanton child wilful will be.
  • In a herber grene, a slope where as I laye
    The byrdes sang swete in the myddes of the daye
    I dreamed fast of myrth and play
    In youth is pleasur, in youth is pleasure.
    Me thought I walked stil to and fro
    And from her company I could not go
    But when I waked it was not so,
    In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
    Therfore my harte is surely pyght.
    Of her alone to haue a sight.
    Whiche is my joy and hartes delyght,
    In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
    • An Enterlude called lusty Juventus (1565), Song of Juventus
    • Partially modernised text:
      In a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay,
      The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day,
      I dreamèd fast of mirth and play:
        In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
      Methought I walked still to and fro,
      And from her company I could not go—
      But when I waked it was not so:
        In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
      Therefore my hart is surely pyght
      Of her alone to have a sight
      Which is my joy and hartes delight:
        In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
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