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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530181" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Satyr V. Verse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou soft Engager of my tender years<br>Divertive verse now come & ease my cares<br>The Rake has wine the aged knave ye view<br>Of what his death bed Charity will do<br>to lay his cares & mine are layd by you<br>You give my mind when I unbend relief<br>Raise ev'ry Joy & lessen ev'ry grief<br>Nor do I onely these thy comforts find<br>thy comforts are diffusive to mankind<br>The men of sense of buisness or of whims<br>half witts or lovers ev'ry one sometimes<br>Will toy away a vacant hour in rimes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">& they give all but lovers troubles ease<br>the Muses fires the flames of love encrease<br>Yet the fond fooles write more yn all ye rest<br>as if they studyd to be more unblest<br>of Moving things they speak in moving strains<br>& moan & beg a cure of all their pains<br>till at the last theyre workd to a belief<br>that what they said has been their reall grief <br>As strong as fate they call the chains they wear<br>To starrs & Angells ev'ry nymph compare<br>Then think their chains as strong, their nymphs as fair<br>thus our loves more & more the womens pride<br>so the wounds deeper & the cure denyd<br>Long may you gentle souls your fetters wear<br>if still you write upon ye pangs you bear<br>Yet know that writing makes them more severe<br>If Celia or Aminta scornfull grow<br>On the great praises which your lines bestow<br>Long may you feel them since you make ym so</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Verse is on other subjects less unkind<br>& with its transports brightens up ye mind<br>the Drunkards catch is half the rogues delight<br>Where noise & briskness do their charms unite<br>The drawers calld & ink & paper brought<br>& so extempore the work is wrought<br>While wine inspires they never stay for thought<br>the Jolly words are roard in tunefull sound<br>While the full bottles run the tables round<br>& Ecchoes from the Empty ones rebound<br>Raisd to the Joyes above the cares of kings<br>their singing makes ym drink their drinking sing<br>O happy men if twere not for the curse<br>of qualms repentance & an empty purse<br>but happy men at least for some few hours<br>Who force the Muse to nothing else but rime<br>& when your sense is drownd sing off yr time</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Verse has another powr on other men<br>When the vexd thoughts by writing grow serene<br>full of the spleen & rage & scorn to see<br>the tide of vice & folly run so high<br>some from the world retire to poetry<br>& when their pens what grieves their bosoms speak<br>how honesty's a cully witt a rake<br>fair Virtue beggerd beauty grown a baud<br>Religion made a masque & gold a God<br>their breasts find ease by laying down their load<br>so Prophetts usd inspird of old to swell<br>& when they spoke their Oracles grew well</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For me who never have a drinker been<br>Nor provd the witty forces of the spleen <br>for me who be it chance or carelessness<br>(forgive me half the world when I confess)<br>have never been in love in all my dayes<br>On other principles my pen I take<br>for meer disintrested diversions sake<br>I onely write as many lovers woo<br>but just when I have nothing else to do<br>& then to please my self as well as you<br>I seek no praise & keep me safe from shame<br>Not known to many & unknown to fame<br>I woud not blunty rail a folly down<br>Nor with undecent rage on vices run<br>Our master Horace wisely sung of old<br>that satyrs better if it Jear then scold<br>the Gall too much prevailing spoils the ink<br>Nor woul I frett mankind but make ym think<br>tis farr more human thus to show ye place<br>Where you ly open then throw in ye pass</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Parnell">Thomas Parnell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530181" data-title="Satyr V. Verse de Thomas Parnell" data-description="Thou soft Engager of my tender years
Divertive verse now come & ease my cares
The Rake has wine the aged knave ye view
Of what his death bed Charity will do
to lay his cares & mine are layd by you
You give my mind when I unbend relief
Raise ev'ry ..."></div>
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