Considerations - On Part Of The 88th Psalm. A College Exercise
Heavy, O Lord, on my thy judgements lie;
Accursed I am while God rejects my cry.
O'erwhelm'd in darkness and despair I groan,
And every place is hell, for God is gone.
O Lord, arise, and let thy beams control
Those horrid clouds that press my frighted soul:
Save the poor wanderer from eternal night,
Thou that art the God of light.
Downward I hasten to my destined place;
There none obtain thy aid, or sing thy praise,
Soon shall I lie in death's deep ocean drown'd:
Is mercy there, or sweet forgiveness found?
O save me yet whilst on the brink I stand;
Rebuke the storm, and waft my soul to land,
O let her rest beneath thy wing secure,
Thou that art the God of power.
Behold the prodigal! to thee I come,
To hail my father, and to seek my home.
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poem by Matthew Prior
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Nonpareil
Let others from the Town retire,
And in the fields seek new delight;
My Phillis does such joys inspire,
No other objects please my sight.
In her alone I find whate'er
Beauties a country landscape grace;
No shade so lovely as her hair,
Nor plain so sweet as is her face.
Lilies and roses there combine,
More beauteous than in flowery field;
Transparent is her skin so fine,
To this each crystal stream must yield.
Her voice more sweet than warbling sound,
Though sung by nightingale or lark;
Her eyes such lustre dart around,
Compared to them the sun is dark.
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poem by Matthew Prior
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The Female Phaeton
Thus Kitty, beautiful and young,
And wild as colt untamed,
Bespoke the fair from whence she sprung,
With little rage inflamed.
Inflamed with rage at sad restraint
Which wise mamma ordain'd,
And sorely vex'd to play the saint
Whilst wit and beauty reign'd.
Shall I thumb holy books, confined
With Abigails, forsaken?
Kitty's for other things design'd,
Or I am much mistaken.
Must Lady Jenny frisk about,
And visit with her cousins?
At balls must she make all the rout,
And bring home hearts by dozens?
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poem by Matthew Prior
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The Question to Lisetta
WHAT nymph should I admire or trust,
But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just?
What nymph should I desire to see,
But her who leaves the plain for me?
To whom should I compose the lay,
But her who listens when I play?
To whom in song repeat my cares,
But her who in my sorrow shares?
For whom should I the garland make,
But her who joys the gift to take,
And boasts she wears it for my sake?
In love am I not fully blest?
Lisetta, prithee tell the rest.
LISETTA'S REPLY
Sure Chloe just, and Chloe fair,
Deserves to be your only care;
But, when you and she to-day
Far into the wood did stray,
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poem by Matthew Prior
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To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, the Author Suppos'd Forty
Lords, knights, and squires, the num'rous band,
That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters,
Were summon'd by her high command,
To show their passions by their letters.
My pen amongst the rest I took,
Lest those bright eyes that cannot read
Should dart their kindling fires, and look
The pow'r they have to be obey'd.
Nor quality, nor reputation,
Forbid me yet my flame to tell,
Dear Five-years-old befriends my passion,
And I may write till she can spell.
For while she makes her silk-worms beds
With all the tender things I swear;
Whilst all the house my passion reads,
In papers round her baby's hair;
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poem by Matthew Prior
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The Judgement Of Venus
When Kneller's works, of various grace,
Were to fair Venus shown,
The Goddess spied in every face
Some features of her own.
Just so, (and pointing with her hand)
So shone, says she, my eyes,
When from two goddesses I gain'd
An apple for a prize.
When in the glass and river too
My face I lately view'd,
Such was I, if the glass be true,
If true the crystal flood.
In colours of this glorious kind
Apelles painted me;
My hair, thus flowing with the wind
Sprung from my native sea.
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poem by Matthew Prior
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Chaste Florimel
No - I'll endure ten thousand deaths
Ere any further I'll comply:
Oh! Sir, no man on earth that breathes
Had ever yet his hand so high.
Oh! take your sword and pierce my heart,
Undaunted see me meet the wound
Oh! will you act a Tarquin's part?
A second Lucrece you have found.
Thus to the pressing Corydon
Poor Florimel, unhappy maid,
Fearing by love to be undone,
In broken dying accents said;
Delia who held the conscious door,
Inspired by truth and brandy, smiled,
Knowing that sixteen months before
Our Lucrece had her second child.
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poem by Matthew Prior
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To a Lady
Spare, gen'rous victor, spare the slave,
Who did unequal war pursue;
That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.
In the dispute whate'er I said,
My heart was by my tongue belied;
And in my looks you might have read
How much I argued on your side.
You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have sustain'd an open fight:
For seldom your opinions err:
Your eyes are always in the right.
Why, fair one, would you not rely
On Reason's force with Beauty's join'd?
Could I their prevalence deny,
I must at once be deaf and blind.
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poem by Matthew Prior
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An Ode To A Lady. She Refusing To Continue A Dispute With Me, And Leaving Me In The Argument
Spare, generous victor, spare the slave,
Who did unequal war pursue;
That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.
In the dispute, whate'er I said,
My heart was by my tongue belied;
And in my looks you might have read
How much I argued on your side.
You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have sustain'd an open fight;
For seldom your opinions err,
Your eyes are always in the right.
Why, fair one, would you not rely
On reason's force with beauty's join'd?
Could I their prevalence deny,
I must at once be deaf and blind.
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poem by Matthew Prior
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To The Author Of The Foregoing Pastoral - (Love And Friendship)
By Sylvia if thy charming self be meant;
If friendship be thy virgin vows' extent,
O! let me in Aminta's praises join,
Hers my esteem shall be, my passion thine.
When for thy head the garland I prepare,
A second wreath shall bind Aminta's hair;
And when my choicest songs thy worth proclaim,
Alternate verse shall bless Aminta's name;
My heart shall own the justice of her cause,
And Love himself submit to Friendship's laws.
But if beneath thy numbers' soft disguise
Some favour'd swain, some true Alexis, lies;
If Amaryllis breathes thy secret pains,
And thy fond heart beats measure to thy strains,
May'st thou, howe'er I grieve, for ever find
The flame propitious and the lover kind;
May Venus long exert her happy power,
And make thy beauty like thy verse endure:
May every god his friendly aid afford,
Pan guard thy flock, and Ceres bless thy board.
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poem by Matthew Prior
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