Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 76

Matthew Prior. 1664-1721

427. A Letter to Lady Margaret Cavendish Holles-Harley, when a Child

MY n.o.ble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my First Epistle beg ye, At dawn of morn, and close of even, To lift your heart and hands to Heaven.

In double duty say your prayer: Our Father first, then Notre Pere.

And, dearest child, along the day, In every thing you do and say, Obey and please my lord and lady, So G.o.d shall love and angels aid ye.

If to these precepts you attend, No second letter need I send, And so I rest your constant friend.

Matthew Prior. 1664-1721

428. For my own Monument

AS doctors give physic by way of prevention, Mat, alive and in health, of his tombstone took care; For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention May haply be never fulfill'd by his heir.

Then take Mat's word for it, the sculptor is paid; That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye; Yet credit but lightly what more may be said, For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie.

Yet counting as far as to fifty his years, His virtues and vices were as other men's are; High hopes he conceived, and he smother'd great fears, In a life parti-colour'd, half pleasure, half care.

Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave, He strove to make int'rest and freedom agree; In public employments industrious and grave, And alone with his friends, Lord! how merry was he!

Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot, Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust; And whirl'd in the round as the wheel turn'd about, He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust.

This verse, little polish'd, tho' mighty sincere, Sets neither his t.i.tles nor merit to view; It says that his relics collected lie here, And no mortal yet knows too if this may be true.

Fierce robbers there are that infest the highway, So Mat may be kill'd, and his bones never found; False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea, So Mat may yet chance to be hang'd or be drown'd.

If his bones lie in earth, roll in sea, fly in air, To Fate we must yield, and the thing is the same; And if pa.s.sing thou giv'st him a smile or a tear, He cares not--yet, prithee, be kind to his fame.

William Walsh. 1663-1708

429. Rivals

OF all the torments, all the cares, With which our lives are curst; Of all the plagues a lover bears, Sure rivals are the worst!

By partners in each other kind Afflictions easier grow; In love alone we hate to find Companions of our woe.

Sylvia, for all the pangs you see Are labouring in my breast, I beg not you would favour me, Would you but slight the rest!

How great soe'er your rigours are, With them alone I'll cope; I can endure my own despair, But not another's hope.

Lady Grisel Baillie. 1665-1746

430. Werena my Heart's licht I wad dee

THERE ance was a may, and she lo'ed na men; She biggit her bonnie bow'r doun in yon glen; But now she cries, Dool and a well-a-day!

Come doun the green gait and come here away!

When bonnie young Johnnie cam owre the sea, He said he saw naething sae lovely as me; He hecht me baith rings and mony braw things-- And werena my heart's licht, I wad dee.

He had a wee t.i.tty that lo'ed na me, Because I was twice as bonnie as she; She raised sic a pother 'twixt him and his mother That werena my heart's licht, I wad dee.

The day it was set, and the bridal to be: The wife took a dwam and lay doun to dee; She maned and she graned out o' dolour and pain, Till he vow'd he never wad see me again.

His kin was for ane of a higher degree, Said--What had he do wi' the likes of me?

Appose I was bonnie, I wasna for Johnnie-- And werena my heart's licht, I wad dee.

They said I had neither cow nor calf, Nor dribbles o' drink rins thro' the draff, Nor pickles o' meal rins thro' the mill-e'e-- And werena my heart's licht, I wad dee.

His t.i.tty she was baith wylie and slee: She spied me as I cam owre the lea; And then she ran in and made a loud din-- Believe your ain e'en, an ye trow not me.

His bonnet stood ay fu' round on his brow, His auld ane look'd ay as well as some's new: But now he lets 't wear ony gait it will hing, And casts himsel dowie upon the corn bing.

And now he gaes daund'ring about the d.y.k.es, And a' he dow do is to hund the tykes: The live-lang nicht he ne'er steeks his e'e-- And werena my heart's licht, I wad dee.

Were I but young for thee, as I hae been, We should hae been gallopin' doun in yon green, And linkin' it owre the lily-white lea-- And wow, gin I were but young for thee!

may] maid. biggit] built. gait] way, path. hecht]

promised. t.i.tty] sister. dwam] sudden illness. appose]

suppose. pickles] small quant.i.ties. hing] hang. dowie]

dejectedly. hund the tykes] direct the dogs. steeks]

closes. linkin'] tripping.

William Congreve. 1670-1729

431. False though She be

FALSE though she be to me and love, I'll ne'er pursue revenge; For still the charmer I approve, Though I deplore her change.

In hours of bliss we oft have met: They could not always last; And though the present I regret, I'm grateful for the past.

William Congreve. 1670-1729

432. A Hue and Cry after Fair Amoret

FAIR Amoret is gone astray-- Pursue and seek her, ev'ry lover; I'll tell the signs by which you may The wand'ring Shepherdess discover.

Coquette and coy at once her air, Both studied, tho' both seem neglected; Careless she is, with artful care, Affecting to seem unaffected.

With skill her eyes dart ev'ry glance, Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them, For she'd persuade they wound by chance, Tho' certain aim and art direct them.

She likes herself, yet others hates For that which in herself she prizes; And, while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing hat she despises.