Epistle To Mrs Teresa Blount.[On Her Leaving The Town After The Coronation] poem – Alexander Pope

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period

As some fond virgin, whom her mother’s care

Drags from the town to wholesome country air,

Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,

And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;

From the dear man unwilling she must sever,

Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever:

Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,

Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;

Not that their pleasures caused her discontent,

She sigh’d not that they staid, but that she went.

She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks,

Old-fashion’d halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:

She went from opera, park, assembly, play,

To morning-walks, and prayers three hours a-day:

To part her time ‘twixt reading and bohea,

To muse, and spill her solitary tea;

Or o’er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,

Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;

Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,

Hum half a tune, tell stories to the ‘squire;

Up to her godly garret after seven,

There starve and pray, for that’s the way to heaven.

Some ‘squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack;

Whose game is whist, whose treat, a toast in sack;

Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,

Then gives a smacking buss, and cries–No words!

Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable,

Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;

Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are coarse,

And loves you best of all things–but his horse.

In some fair evening, on your elbow laid,

You dream of triumphs in the rural shade;

In pensive thought recall the fancied scene,

See coronations rise on every green;

Before you pass the imaginary sights

Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter’d knights,

While the spread fan o’ershades your closing eyes;

Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies.

Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls,

And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!

So when your slave, at some dear idle time,

(Not plagued with headaches, or the want of rhyme)

Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew,

And while he seems to study, thinks of you;

Just when his fancy paints your sprightly eyes,

Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,

Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,

Streets, chairs, and coxcombs rush upon my sight;

Vex’d to be still in town, I knit my brow,

Look sour, and hum a tune, as you do now.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

Talking Writing Monster’s Page –

Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: Behold, My Love, How Green The Groves: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Winter Of Life: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Lover’s Morning Salute To His Mistress: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Inconstancy In Love: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: How Lang And Dreary Is The Night: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Saw Ye My Dear, My Philly: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Esteem For Chloris: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Pretty Peg: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Andrew Turner: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On An Innkeeper Nicknamed “The Marquis”: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On A Swearing Coxcomb: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On A Suicide: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Hearing It Asserted Falsehood: is expressed in the Rev. Dr. Babington’s very looks. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Being Shewn A Beautiful Country Seat : Belonging to the same Laird [not quite so wise as Solomon]. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram On A Country Laird,: not quite so wise as Solomon. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Seeing Mrs. Kemble In Yarico: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Chloris: Requesting me to give her a Spring of Blossomed Thorn. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To The Beautiful Miss Eliza J-N: On her Principles of Liberty and Equality. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Dr. Maxwell: On Miss Jessy Staig’s recovery. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: She Says She Loes Me Best Of A’: by Robert Burns

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

Parallel Translations of Poetry

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works