On Presenting to a Lady a White Rose and a Red on the Tenth of June by William Somervile
If this pale Rose offend your sight, It in your bosom wear, ‘Twill blush to find itself less white, And turn Lancastrian there: But, Celia, should the red be chose, With gay vermilion bright, ‘Twould sicken at each blush that glows, And in despair turn white. Let politicians idly prate, Their Babels build in vain; […]
On Miranda’s Leaving the Country by William Somervile
The sun departing, hides his head, The lily and the rose are dead, The birds forget to sing; The cooing turtles now no more Repeat their amorous ditties o’er, But watch the approaching Spring. For soon the merry month of May Restores the bright all-cheering ray; Soft notes charm every grove: The flow’rs ambrosial incense […]
Mahomet Ali Beg; Or, the Faithful Minister of State by William Somervile
OR, THE FAITHFUL MINISTER OF STATE . A LONG descent and noble blood Is but a vain fantastic good, Unless with inbred virtues join’d, An honest, brave, and generous mind All that our ancestors have done, Nations reliev’d and battles won, The trophies of each bloody field, Can only then true honour yield, When, like […]
Liberty, and Love; or, the Two Sparrows by William Somervile
A SPARROW and his mate, (Believe me, gentle Kate!) Once lov’d like I and you; With mutual ardour join’d, No turtles e’er so kind, So constant and so true. They hopp’d from spray to spray; They bill’d, they chirp’d all day, They cuddled close all night; To bliss they wak’d each morn, In every bush […]
Hunting Song by William Somervile
Behold , my friend! the rosy-finger’d morn With blushes on her face, Peeps o’er yon azure hill; Rich gems the trees enchase, Pearls from each bush distill; Arise, arise, and hail the light new-born. Hark! hark! the merry horn calls, Come away: Quit, quit thy downy bed; Break from Amynta’s arms; Oh! let it ne’er […]
Hudibras and Milton Reconciled by William Somervile
TO SIR ADOLPHUS OUGHTON . Dear Knight! how great a drudge is he Who would excel in poetry; And yet how few have learn’d the art To’ inform the head or touch the heart! Some with a dry and barren brain, Poor rogues! like costive lapdogs strain; While others with a flux of wit The […]
Hobbinol; or The Rural Games by William Somervile
CANTO I. What old Menalcas at his feast reveal’d, I sing; strange feats of antient prowess, deeds Of high renown, while all his listening guests With eager Joy receiv’d the pleasing tale. O thou who late on Vaga’s flowery banks Slumbering secure, with Stirom well bedew’d, Fallacious cask, in sacred dreams wert taught By ancient […]
Hobbinol; or The Rural Games – Canto 3 by William Somervile
CANTO III. Though some of old, and some of modern date, Penurious, their victorious heroes fed With barren praise alone; yet thou, my Muse! Benevolent with more indulgent eyes Behold the’ immortal Hobbinol; reward With due regalement his triumphant toils. Let Quixote’s hardy courage, and renown, With Sancho’s prudent care be meetly join’d. O thou […]
Hobbinol; or The Rural Games – Canto 2 by William Somervile
CANTO II. Long while an universal hubbub loud, Deafening each ear, had drown’d each accent mild; Till biting taunts, and harsh opprobrious words Vile utterance found. How weak are human minds! How impotent to stem the swelling tide, And without insolence enjoy success! The vale-inhabitants, proud, and elate With victory, know no restraint, but give […]
Hare-hunting by William Somervile
Hark! from yon covert, where those tow’ring oaks Above the humble copse aspiring rise, What glorious triumphs burst in ev’ry gale Upon our ravished ears! The hunters shout, The clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes, The pack wide-op’ning load the trembling air With various melody; from tree to tree The propagated cry redoubling bounds, And […]
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 […]
Upon a Lady’s Fall Over a Stile, Gotten by Running From Her Love by William Wycherley
My Heart held out, against your Face, and Eyes, But cou’d no more, against your Breech, and Thighs, Which they, both took, and wounded, by Surprize; Who, till then, did (as ’twere,) in Ambush ly, For my poor Life, at least, my Liberty; So secret Enemies, more Mischief do, The less still they, […]
To his Indifferent Mistress by William Wycherley
I. Ah! Dear, proud Charmer, cou’d you prove At once more Cruel, or less Fair, Your Cruelty wou’d speak some Love, In turning Mine to strong Despair; For luke-warm Love, or cold Indifference, Keeps with more Pain my Flame in more Suspence. II. To make me Yours, you still disdain, Yet can’t consent to let […]
The Poor Lover to His Rich Mistress about to Marry His Coxcombly Rival by William Wycherley
He av’n is not gain’d with Wealth, or Bribes, we know, So (Divine Thing!) I nothing bid for you, No Shining Dirt, as my Rich Rivals do; Tho’ Di’monds, Pearl, may purchas’d be with Gold, Your Eyes, Teeth, at a Higher Rate I hold; My Precious, and Inestimable Dear! He who wou’d buy thy Love […]
Sleep and Death by William Wycherley
O Sleep! thou dost thy healing Virtues lend, At once t’instruct our Nature, and befriend. Do’st to our wearied Limbs fresh Strength supply, And giv’st Ideas what ’twill be to die. Brother of Death! In Office how the same! Both lent us to repair our shatter’d Frame; Yet diff’ring here, that Sleep at best can […]
On a Sea Fight, Which the Author was in, Betwixt the English and Dutch by William Wycherley
Pluto himself did tremble in his Hell, Pale Ghosts look’d paler, to hear new Ghosts tell What was in Neptune ‘s Empire done above By Two great Fleets, that for Hell’s Empire strove. Each Side, like Fiends, in Fire and Smoke did fight, And put the Dev’l himself into a Fright; For both dispatch’d to […]
Love and Wine by William Wycherley
In vain I Drunkenness forswore, Because by That made Sick and Blind; Since tho’ I have the Flask giv’n o’er, Love still intoxicates my Mind. If then for either Sottishness, Alike Man’s Sense is in Disguise; No matter which way, sure, it is, By sparkling Wine, or sparkling Eyes. Yet most debauch’d the Lovers shew, […]
In Praise of Laziness by William Wycherley
O God-like State! thou Heav’nly Laziness! Which, in thy Rags, canst thy Professors Bless, Ensure their Innocence, Peace, Ease, or Rest, Ev’n here, with Poverty, to make ’em Blest; Their Faith, and Honour, best dost justifie, Securing their Good Name, and Liberty, From Scandal, Care, Fear, Pain, and Slavery; Blest State on Earth! […]
Drinking-Song, A. To a Formal, Proud, Sober Coxcomb by William Wycherley
I. Let the Dull, Sober, and the Grave, But fit for drudging, Bus’ness have; Let sitting still, my Hand employ, My busie Tongue, not thoughtless Head; Employment, which wou’d Cares destroy, Not such, by which, more still are bred; II. Let all Ambitious Sots flie high, To make their Steps more slippery, Whilst I, with […]
A Consolation to Cuckholds by William Wycherley poems
Injurious, spightful, and ill-judging Town, To cry the Trade of Cuckold-making down! When by it half your Sons to Honours rise, And raise their Fortunes, and their Families: Why then should that be deem’d Disgrace, or Shame, To which so many owe their Wealth and Name And so gain Honour, ev’n in Spight of Fame? […]
The Hecatomb to his Mistress by John Cleveland
Hecatomb The Hecatomb to his Mistress. Be dumb, you beggars of the rhyming trade, Geld your loose wits and let your Muse be spayed. Charge not the parish with the bastard phrase Of balm, elixir, both the Indias, Of shrine, saint, sacrilege, and such as these Expressions common as your mistresses. Hence, […]