Fortune-Hunter, The – Canto 5 by William Somervile
CANTO V. I F Heav’n the thriving trader bless, What fawning crowds about him press! But if he fail, distress’d and poor, His mob of friends are seen no more; For all men hold it meet to fly The’ infectious breath of Poverty. Poor Frank, deserted and forlorn, Curses the day that he was born: […]
Fortune-Hunter, The – Canto 3 by William Somervile
CANTO III. As there is something in a face, An air, and a peculiar grace, Which boldest painters cannot trace, That more than feature, shape, or hair, Distinguishes the happy fair, Strikes every eye, and makes her known A ruling toast through all the town; So in each action ’tis success That gives it all […]
Fortune-Hunter, The – Canto 1 by William Somervile
IN FIVE CANTOS CANTO I . Some authors, more abstruse than wise, Friendship confine to stricter ties, Require exact conformity In person, age, and quality Their humours, principles, and wit Must, like Exchequer tallies, hit: — Others, less scrupulous, opine, That hands and hearts in love may join, Though different inclinations sway, For Nature’s more […]
For the Lute by William Somervile
Gently , my lute! move every string, Soft as my sighs reveal my pain, While I, in plaintive numbers, sing Of slighted vows and cold disdam. In vain her airs, in vain her art, In vain she frowns, when I appear; Thy notes shall melt her frozen heart She cannot hate if she can hear. […]
First let the kennel be the huntsman’s care by William Somervile
THE KENNEL First let the kennel be the huntsman’s care, Upon some little eminence erect, And fronting to the ruddy dawn; its courts On either hand wide opening to receive The sun’s all-cheering beams, when mild he shines, And gilds the mountain-tops. For much the pack (Roused from their dark alcoves) delight to stretch And […]
Field Sports by William Somervile
TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE. Once more, great Prince! permit an humble bard Prostrate to pay his homage at your feet, Then, like the morning lark from the low ground Towering aloft, sublime, to soar and sing, Sing the heart-cheering pleasure of the fields, The choice delight of heroes and of kings. In earlier […]
Epistle from Mr. Somerville, An by William Somervile
Near fair Avona’s silver tide, Whose waves in soft meanders glide, I read, to the delighted swams, Your jocund songs and rural strains. Smooth as her streams your numbers flow; Your thoughts in varied beauties show, Like flow’rs that on her borders grow. While I survey, with ravish’d eyes, His friendly gift, my valued prize, […]
Chase, The – Book 1 by William Somervile
BOOK I. The Chase I sing, hounds, and their various breed, And no less various use. O thou great Prince! Whom Cambria’s towering hills proclaim their lord, Deign thou to hear my bold, instructive song. While grateful citizens with pompous show Rear the triumphal arch, rich with the’ exploits Of thy illustrious house; while virgins […]
All-Accomplished Rover by William Somervile
Man, of precarious science vain, Treats other creatures with disdain; Nor Pug nor Shock has common sense, Nor even Poll the least pretence, Though she prates better than us all, To be accounted rational. The brute creation here below, It seems, is Nature’s puppet show; But clock-work all, and mere machine, What can these idle […]
Advice to the Ladies by William Somervile
Who now regards Chloris, her tears, and her whining, Her sighs, and fond wishes, and aukward repining? What a pother is here, with her amorous glances, Soft fragments of Ovid, and scrapes of romances! An nice prude at fifteen! and a romp in decay! Cold December affects the sweet blossoms of May; To fawn in […]
Address to His Elbow-Chair, New Cloath’d, An by William Somervile
NEW-CLOTHED . M Y dear companion, and my faithful friend! If Orpheus taught the listening oaks to bend; If stones and rubbish, at Amphion’s call, Danc’d into form, and built the Theban wall, Why should’st not thou attend my humble lays, And hear my grateful harp resound thy praise? True, thou art spruce and fine, […]
A Padlock for the Mouth by William Somervile
JACK Dimple was a merry blade, Young, amorous, witty, and well made; ” Discreet!” — Hold, sir, — nay, as I live, My friend, you’re too inquisitive: Discretion, all men must agree, Is a most shining quality, Which, like leaf-gold, makes a great show, And thinly spread sets off a beau: But, sir, to put […]