I leave you a list of Poems of neoclassicism Of great authors like Jose Cadalso, Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos or uan Meléndez Valdés.
He Neoclassicism Was an aesthetic trend that emerged in France and Italy in the eighteenth century as opposed to the ornate baroque ornament.
It quickly spread throughout Europe. This movement sought as a reference the classical models of Ancient Greece and Rome and nourished by the rational ideas of the Enlightenment.
This current served mainly to the nascent bourgeois class of the time - with the support of Napoleon Bonaparte - that wanted to rescue the ideals of simplicity, sobriety and rationality.
At the end of the eighteenth century, Neoclassicism lost its force and gave way to Romanticism that exalted totally opposite ideals.
Poems by authors representative of Neoclassicism
The literature of this period is part of the so-called"Century of Enlightenment", which was characterized by the exaltation of reason, morality and knowledge.
Artistic production of this period was, by nature, atheistic and democratic, emphasizing the importance of science and education and taking it away from the customs and religious dogmas.
Poetry did not have much preponderance in this period and gave the place to the fables (with Tomás de Iriarte and Felix Maria Samaniego as main exponents), the anacreónticas, the satires and the epistles, since they were tools more useful for its primary purpose Which was to spread knowledge.
Below we leave you some texts of the most famous authors of this period.
1- Epistle dedicated to Hortelio (Fragment)
From the center of these solitudes,
Grateful to the one who knows the truths,
Pleasant to the one who knows the deceits
Of the world, and takes advantage of disappointments,
I send you, beloved Hortelio, fine friend!
Thousand proofs of the rest I conceive.
Ovid in sad yards complained
That luck would not tolerate him
That the Tiber with his works should approach,
But to the cruel point destined to him.
But what I have missed as a poet
To get from Ovid to the high,
I am a philosopher, and I intend
Take things as they come.
Oh, how strange when you see this
And only trifles here read,
That I, raised in serious faculties,
Apply me to such ridiculous matters!
You arched, you raised those eyebrows,
And the manuscript of the hand you leave,
And you say:"By such toys,
Why do you leave the important points?
I do not know why you forget you
Matters so sublime and chosen!
Why do not you dedicate yourself, as it is right,
To matters of more value than taste?
From the right audience you studied
When thou sawest such wise courses;
Of state science and the arcane
The interest of several sovereigns;
Of moral science, which man teaches
What in his favor virtue persists;
Of the warrior arts you learned
When you were a volunteer;
Of the science of Euclid demonstrable,
Of new physics delightful,
It was not the case that you think
In writing what you would notice?
But coplillas? And of love? Oh sad!
You lost the little brains you had."
Have you said, Hortelio, how much, angry,
Did you love this poor exile?
Well look, and with cool and quiet phlegm
I tell you that I continue with my subject.
Of all the sciences you refer to
(And add some others if you want)
I did not get more than the following.
Listen to me, for God's sake;
But no, what else does it look like I say
Relationship, not a letter from a friend.
If you look at my sonnets to the goddess
Of all the most beautiful,
The first will say with clarity
Why I left the high powers
And only to the pastime I dedicate myself;
That you read them slowly, I beg you,
Be silent, and do not judge that my work is so foolish.
Author: José Cadalso
2- Satire First: To Arnesto (Fragments)
Quis tam patiens ut teneat se?
[Who will be so patient to restrain himself?]
(JUVENAL)
Leave me, Arnesto, let me cry
The fierce evils of my country, leave
That its ruin and perdition mourn;
And if you do not want it in the dark center
Of this prison is worth consuming me,
Let me at least raise the cry
Against disorder; Let the ink
Mixing gall and acíbar, follow indócil
My pen the flight of the jester of Aquino.
Oh how much face I see to my censure
Pallor and blush covered!
Courage, friends, nobody subject, nobody,
His stinging sting, which I chase
In my satire to vice, not vicious.
And what does it mean that in some verse,
Frizz bile, throw a tear
Which the vulgar believe he points to Alcinda,
The one forgetting his proud luck,
Low dressed to the Prado, which could
A maja, with thunder and rascamoño
High clothes, erect the caramba,
Cover of a more transparent cendal
That its intention, to glances and wiggles
The mob of fools cheering?
Can you feel that a malicious finger,
Pointing this verse, point it?
Already the notoriety is the noblest
Attribute of vice, and our Julias,
More than being bad, they want to look like.
There was a time when modesty was walking
Gilding offenses; there was a time
In which shy shyness covered
The ugliness of vice; But he ran away
The modesty to live in the cabins.
With him the happy days fled,
That they will not return; That century fled
In which even the foolish mockery of a husband
The credulous Bascuñanas swallowed;
But today Alcinda has breakfast to yours
With mill wheels; Triumph, spend,
Skip the eternal nights
Of the crude January, and when the late sun
Break the east, admire it by striking,
As if she were a stranger, at her own pace.
Enter sweeping with the undose skirt
the carpet; Here and there ribbons and feathers
Of the enormous headdress planting, and continues
With weak sleepy step and mustia,
Fabio still coming from his grasping hand,
Up to the bedroom, where to loose
The cuckold snores and dreams that he is happy.
Neither the cold sweat, nor the stench, nor the stale
Belching disturbs you. At its time
The fool awakens; Silent leaves
The deserted holland, and watchful
To his murderer the dream is not sure.
How many, oh Alcinda, to the united joint
Your luck envy! How many of Hymenaeus
Seek the yoke to achieve your fate,
And without invoking the reason, nor weigh
Your heart the merits of the groom,
The yes they say and the hand elongate
The first one that arrives! What evil
This cursed blindness does not abort!
I see the bridal showers off
By discord with infamous murmur
At the foot of the same altar, and in the tumult,
Toasts and cheers of the turnabout,
An indiscreet tear predicts
Wars and opprobriums to the badly united.
I see broken reckless hand
The conjugal veil, and that running
With the impudent raised forehead,
Adultery goes from one house to another.
Zumba, celebrate, laugh, and cheek
Sings his triumphs, which perhaps celebrates
A foolish husband, and such of the honest man
Pierce the chest with a piercing dart,
His life shortened, and in the black tomb
Their error, their affront and their spite.
O vile souls! Oh virtue! Oh laws!
O fucking mortal! What causes
Made you trust guards so unfaithful
So precious treasure? Who, O Thors,
Your arm bribed? You move raw
Against the sad victims, who drag
Nudity or helplessness to vice;
Against the weak orphan, from hunger
And of harassed gold, or flattery,
Seduction and tender love;
Expels, dishonor, condemnation
To uncertain and hard confinement. And while
You look indolent on the gilded ceilings
Covered the disorder, or suffer
Go out in triumph through the wide squares,
Virtue and honor mocking!
Oh infamy! Oh century! Oh corruption! Midwives
Castilian, who could of course
Pundonor eclipse? Who of Lucrecias
In Lais did you return? Not even the proceeds
Ocean, nor full of dangers,
The Lilibeo, nor the arduous summits
Of Pirene could garrison
Of fatal contagion? She goes away pregnant
Of gold, the gaditana, brings
To the Gallic shores, and returns
Full of futile and vain objects;
And between the signs of foreign pomp
Poison and corruption, purchased
With the sweat of the Iberian fronts.
And you, miserable Spain, you expect it
On the beach, and with eagerness you collect
The pestilent cargo and the deliveries
Cheerful among your children. Viles feathers,
Gauzes and ribbons, flowers and tufts,
Brings you instead of your blood,
Of your blood, oh baldón! And perhaps
Of your virtue and honesty. Repairs
Which the light youth, seeks.
Author: Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos
3- The Dorila
How the hours go,
And after them the days
And the flowery years
Of our fragile life!
Old age then comes,
Of enemy love,
And among funeral shadows
Death is coming,
That scrawny and trembling,
Ugly, yellow,
We are terrified and it goes out
Our fires and said.
The body becomes numb,
The woes fatigue us,
We are fleeing the pleasures
And leaves the joy.
If this, then, awaits us,
For what, my Dorila,
It's the flowery years
Of our fragile life?
For games and dances
And singing and laughing
We were given the heavens,
Thanks, they are destined.
Come on! what's stopping you?
Come, come, my dove,
Under these vines
Light the wind sucks;
And between soft toasts
And delicious mimosas
Of the childhood we enjoy,
As it flies so fast.
Author: Juan Meléndez Valdés
4- Dare to love
Love, you gave me the daring
Attempts and the hand directed
And in the boiled breast you put it
Of Dorisa, in places untouched;
If you look at so many lightning bolts
Of his divine eyes against a sad,
Give me relief, because the damage you did
Or finish my life and my care.
Take pity on me; Tell him I'm dying.
The intense pain that torments me;
That if it is timid love, it is not true;
That is not audacity in the affection affront
Nor deserve so severe punishment
An unhappy one, to be happy try.
Author: Nicolás Fernández de Moratín
5- Ode
Do not pretend to know (that is impossible)
What end the sky to you and my destiny,
Leucónoe, nor the Chaldean numbers
You consult, no; That in sweet peace, anyone
Luck you can suffer. Or already the tantalizer
Many winters to your life bestow,
Or the last one was the one that breaks today
On the rocks the earthly waves,
You, if you are prudent, do not shy away
Toasts and pleasure. Reduce short
I end your hope. Our age
While we talk envious runs.
Oh! Enjoy the present, and never do,
Credula, of the future uncertain day.
Author: Leandro Fernández de Moratín
References
- Justo Fernández López. Neoclassical poetry. The Fabulistas. Recovered from hispanoteca.eu
- Literature in the eighteenth century. Recovered from writersneoclasicos.blogspot.com.ar
- Neoclassical poetry. Recovered from literaturaiesalagon.wikispaces.com
- Juan Menéndez Valdés. Recovered from rinconcastellano.com
- Ode. Recovered from los-poetas.com
- Love daring. Recovered from amediavoz.com
- The Dorila. Recovered from poemas-del-alma.com
- To Arnesto. Recovered from wordvirtual.com
- Epistle dedicated to Hortelio. Recovered from cervantesvirtual.com
- Neoclassicism. Retrieved from es.wikipedia.org.