Satyr IV. The Pretty Gentleman
Where Creditors their bankrupt debtors stow
Where men for want of coin to durance go
& are for being wretched made more so
Where poor W---G---could months abide
When all his creditt would not him provide
with one nights lodging any where beside
there on a bed by moths half eat away
Damon ye witt ye generous ye gay
the heir of Eighteen hundred sterling lay
Sullen with grief impatient to endure
& yet oppressd with what he could not cure
Long did his thoughts upon his Sorrows dwell
then they on generall reflections fell
for still the mind by private ills aggrievd
Is by the thought of common ills relieved
this soths ye spleen while that creates dispair
One you ingross in 'tother others share
Alass he crys how many have I known
by giddy pleasures & ymselves undon
We hunt for happiness on eager speed
& have a chance that we may all succeed
reason & passion draw ye diffrent views
& we're all blessd according as we chuse
but to our reason seldom we attend
tho' all our hopes upon that choice depend
see ye degrees thou heedless creature man
by which the passions on ye mind obtain
as in ye pretty Gentleman suppose
for instance how in him yr empire grows
up from his swadling to his beauish clothes
Scarce can his tongue in tripping accents rove
but the nurse lulls him wth wild tales of love
Where a kings son as many such have been
dyes for ye youngest daughter of a queen
these mold his temper till he learns to read
& then romantick authors fill his head
Where honour in enamelld armour bleeds
for love thats errant on ye milk white steed
how his eyes dance when magick Castles fly
When beautyes freed how pants his heart for Joy
how much what ere he reads he longs to try
When he can Nature more distinctly see
he finds such things as these coud never be
Yet still the prejudice is on his Soul
& love & honour must his actions rule
then that he may their due proportions trace
playes following nature he will follow playes
at these he dresses talkes fightes loves from these
he railes at buisness wch he does not know
because ye poett who had none did so
In wine & whores & games his guinnys run
because the like in such a part is don
thats drawn with art to please ye lookers on
to repeat verse & with a grace be leud
is gay is Dorimant & must be good
But when his fullgrown witt a figure makes
Without a guide agreably he rakes
Nor the stage longer for a pattern takes
himself a mode a man of airs a beau
Nay poet too—as far as songs will go
thus with a world of pains the work is past
& he's an entertaining fool at last
he does the men of buisness pitty move
the men of Moralls soberly reprove
the tradesmen cheat him—but the Ladies love.
As on this head he woud have spoken more
the Jailour happend to unlock the door
to lett him know his creditors did wait
to make him sell if he woud freedom gett
At least three quarters of his whole estate
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Satyr III. Virtue
Is virtue something reall here below
Or but an Idle name & empty show
While on this head I take my thoughts to task
Methinks young Freedom answers wt I ask
In his own moralls thus the Spark goes on
Or thus if he were here he might have don
In what wild hill or unfrequented plain
hast thou been bred so ignorant of men
Such doubts in such a world to entertain
Or has thy father had an hopefull son
by Colledge education quite undon
& therefore wisely gave his others none
Believe me Sr that what you faign woud know
is but a word to signify a show
Often it is 'tis often not designd
& still it makes a riddle of the mind.
Now see how evidently this appears
in the clear language of particulars.
All men do Sporus very chast esteem
But does he rule his will or nature him
What he might be himself he little knows
Who never had a passion to oppose
he must be chast with out a world of pains
for all his virtue is his impotence.
Damon the hottest rakell of the town
has his cast misses on the common thrown
No signs of great repentance does he show
But the mans bound his wife's his virtue now
Nor friends nor glorious wine nor sparkling witt
Makes Codrus ere beyond a bottle sitt
this is his temperance his acquaintance say
& att the barr they give him leave to pay
But they forgett that Codrus is so poor
& all his virtue may be want of more
A sexton scarcely can resolve to ring
But Cotta flyes as on devotions wing
tows his old aunt in black to every prayer
Whines as he goes & prayes aloud when there
thus to be Guardian when she dies he'le gett
his virtue is the hopes of pow'r to cheat
thus various mankind cou'd I quickly trace
& show how fondly we mistake their wayes
how something which they are not oft they seem
& how that something brings them in esteem
but to be short with in my self I feel
too deepely rooted all the seeds of ill
Mad passions reason not invincible
& chance to be misguided in my will
Why shoud I think another has not these
is he more perfect man or am I less.
To such a loose harangue on t'other side
My honest Trueman woud have thus replyd
While by yr own you blame anothers soul
You must go wrong & ye illbiassd bowl
bear on a falser ground at every roul
tis granted where the moralls run awry
there your reflections very justly ly
but think you there are none to good inclind
from the meer sway of reason on their mind
think you that every one woud rather be
Slave to his passions then from passion free
for such they are who have no powr to stay
When every weak temptation calls away
Curio is summond to Corinna's house
Cross is his father cruell is her spouse
the dangers great but Curio must be gon
a pleasure tempts a passion hurry's on
Nor are the troubles which pursue it all
for you may feel the very fetters gall
Dispair & hope with lingring pangs remain
Sorrow & Joy give much a quicker pain
& love & hate in wild convulsions reign.
When with their proper objects these attack
tis to be virtuous then to drive 'em back
entrenchd with in ye rules wch prudence makes
tis virtue still an æquall mind to bear
Nor swoln wth hope nor too depressed wth fear
to lett the Man secure from passion move
in reasons orb serenely plac'd above
tis Virtue to maintain your country's cause
Support your king while he supports her laws
nor in th' oppressing of a kingdom share
for fifteen hundred English pounds a year
paid down by order of ye Commons here
tis virtue & the highest mentiond yet
to think religion not a trick of state
Nature has fooles who know not of this way
& fooles alone have priviledge to stray
But if a Competence of Sense she give
& the receivers do not upright live
their different failures do such words create
as Atheist traytor villain rakehell cheat
defamer pander whore knight of ye post
& hypocrites a Common name for most
Most strive to varnish their prevailing vice
& grant with ease when they succeed in this
the Case the same where the appearance is
but goodness ever has the same appeard
While no design is still upon its guard
the best is onely but ye best begun
Sooner or later by its self undon
Ore peaceful citts the hectring bullys reign
But while they hector so they know their men
Shoud they vex one at last to Cudgells bred
the masque of valour wont protect ye head
While the tough cane insults the shining blade
I scorn in verity old Gripus cry's
this swearing this unprofitable vice
but mony mollifys the wretches scorn
& he who hates to swear will be forsworn
thus ill men never fail of being known
how sly so e're a vizard they put on
but still the good both seem & are ye same
unmovd by passion, int'rest, humour, fame
tis thus that they deserve ye name of men
by ruling of themselves they empires gain
& laugh at fortune raisd above her reign.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Satyr VI. The Spleen
Hail to the sacred silence of this Grove
Hail to the greens below the greens above
Oft have I found beneath these shady trees
A reall in imaginary bliss
for they my fancy sooth she's a cheat
Which can agreably adorn deceit
some state of life she draws with pleasing art
brings Enchanted reason to her part
Reason awhile is captive by consent
acts from all its rigid rules unbent
from our own selves conceales our reall case
Nor shows us what may be but what may please
When I by these am from my self with drawn
I straight become what ere I think upon
Now do I turn a statesman of the rate
that furnishes the world beside with chat
I many use I make a friend of none
if I flatter tis my prince alone
Mankind well versd in various villany
Misrepresent each study'd Case to me
in long petitions a present fee
sayes one your Lordship has ye royall ear
I some articles against me fear
for sinking publick funds in such a year
Then on my chair he layes a bag of coin
Nor dares to offer what he woud have mine
Another cryes I want a place at Court
Your Lships word woud make ye buisness short
I present two hundred guinnys for't
This as I take it is a life of state
when I think of this I think Ime great
But now a leaf is noisy by my head
My chain is broke all my greatness fled
In vain I woud recall the vanishd thought
Something I know did please I cant tell what
as I hunt the traces of my mind
In a new whim a new delight I find
Now among books my chief diversion lyes
I affect to be thought wondrous wise
in strange experiment discovery's
On All ye sorts shapes of flyes I read
Or print a book of shells as Lister did
when I meet a thing unknown till yn
I write for Holland to ye Learned men
the subtiltys of schooles with ease I cutt
Where learnings nothing but a meer dispute
With Ipse Dixit's fixd for arguments
quibbles formd by rules hid with pains
Waging a warr of words in spight of sense
My skill in many languages is shown
Altho' I gracefully can speak in none
No Cares no business do my brain molest
the world admires the treasures of my breast
I in barren satisfaction rest
Here do I change Insensibly again
my gay fancy paints another scene
Heark or a pleasing madness charms my sense
Or I hear songs well tund instruments
Yes tis a ball where I with airs cloths
Engage the Ladys outshine the beaus
I chuse a creature beautious as the light
Of her I beg she denys a night
Scorn with the fair does still attendant go
they're proud because their outward charms they know
fondly think them reasons to be so
But passion hearts of any temper moves
Anon shes complaisant anon she loves
When sated with the bliss their arms I quitt
I boast my triumph to each friend I meet
for men are now so scandalously vain
They think it less of pleasure to obtain
their Joys then tell 'em or'e to other men
more of grief to hide the ripe amour
then twas to smother infant love before
I drink I dance I swear I shake ye dice
try each path of pleasurable vice
till at ye last my wild unsettled life
like Comedys is finishd in a wife
by Just degrees the breezes louder grow
the same breast they sooth they roughen too
Methinks Ime strangely alterd in a trice
All soft unmanly pleasures I despise
Warr is my buisness honour is my prize
I grasp it in my thoughts push along
Nor mind the toiles by which it must be won
With such bewitching powr the walking light
leads men thro' all the dangers of the night
Ore hills vales they hunt the dazzling game
Nor feel the trouble while they see the flame
Strange force of Glory what a world are slain
to please the pride of two or three great men
how towns have fed on ratts yt scornd to yield
how dear ye hardy soldier buys ye field
Warm without anger to their arms they crowd
for anothers quarrell wast their blood
some fight curse while others run pray
In Camps they rook each other at their play
then the loosers mutiny for pay
are my brave followers slain why lett ym dy
false musterd companys my purse supply
Thus summers fraud feeds winters luxury
When in warm quarters nature craves a punk
for the Queen I loyally get drunk
Give ore my wanton fancy now give ore
the clouds are gath'ring anon they'le powr
the pleasures of my groves are fled away
the sacred silence ye shiny day
what have you then to lull you in your play
poem by Thomas Parnell
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To
Thanks to the friend whose happy lines coud cheer
In Derry's oaten soil frozen air
When to the Citty late I bid farewell
Beneath my firm resolves my scribling fell
The Ghost of my departed Muse you raise
tune her tongue to long forgotten layes
Thus a poor girl by passion overrun
Tires with the folly forsakes the town
But if her shades present a powrfull swain
She feels ye woman stirr loves again
Your thoughts are Just your words fall in wth ease
Who woud not be abused in lines like these
Mindless of all the ill they say of me
I read them admire their poetry
So when a Charming beauty strikes ye heart
We slight the wound to gaze upon ye dart
But oh My friend of writing much beware
If once you're charmd youre fixd for ever there
Fame all abroad loose desires with in
Intice a giddy creature to the pen
A Cælia soon he getts to whom to write
the brisk bottle must compleat ye witt
Then every minute of succeeding time
Invents a frolick or creates a whim
Which his leud absent friend must hear in rime
You'll think ( others have been thus undone)
Your reason can the growing passion shun
But did you know its strength youd doubt your own
Your best endeavours on ye law bestow
Rough as it is 'tis proffitable too
Cowel Blunt have words Cook ye way
to keep the wrangling sons of earth in play
then if your books you use your Clients pay
Stay Muse in paths you never trod you rove
My lean advice does my presumption prove
But Can it shew my fault & not my love
Kindly accept what I in kindness send
think me as I think my self your friend.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Satyr IX. The State Of Love Imitated Fm An Elegy Of Mons:r Desportes
In the st season of the infant earth
When all from Chaos took their orderd birth
When mankind from the hand of heaven came
All pure & white ere vice had gott a name
But evry act with innocence indu'd
Was more by nature then from knowledge good
Love mighty powr did graciously descend
grew fond of man & here wth man remaind
In their unsullyd hearts he chose to stay
their bliss anights their buisness all the day
Nor wonder if in such he made abode
No temples better can befitt a god
His gentle influence did their soules inspire
Each found a mate nor wanted amorous fire
Evn when injoyment had allayd desire
Secure of sweet content they daily livd
Content unmixd with fears to be deceivd
their tongues their reall sentiments disclosd
Nor studyd language on the ears imposd
their eyes an undissembling flame expresst
& they who felt it most coud speak it least
desert & softness love or beauty were
their onely arts to make a yielding fair
Plain undesigning love that never knew
to practise crueltys as Empire grew
to fashion smiles with managd airs to court
& wound a tender breast in barb'rous sport
twas more then riches riches coud not move
the meanest thought them not a price for love
But when the vices to a head increast
& all this age of downy pleasure ceast
when gold by glistring showd its dark abode
& fickleness began to be the mode
When feigning was by way of breeding taught
& onely worth his wealth the lover thought
When first to speak the mind was reckond shame
& masqd hypocrisy took honours name
the fatall change with anger Cupid saw
& thus bespoke ym ready to withdraw
Hence lett us hence with Just abhorrence go
for ill their happyness these mortalls know
Who slight the mighty favours I bestow
then darting upwards soon ye clouds he gaind
& hung in air his purpose thus explaind
You shall repent ungratefull race you shall
& know too late the Joyes from whence you fall
the loss regretting by your selves undon
who true contentments heavnly blisses shun
& after false appearing pleasures run
Since all in common do my Godhead slight
On all in common shall my fury light
& first on men who wont their hours employ
In my soft paths of simple artless Joy
Who woud be free tho for the worse you change
My powr shall thus my slighted gifts revenge
Henceforth your charmers shall be versd in arts
Not loving faithless & designing hearts
the tend'rest shall their pitty least obtain
they'le feel a pride ore many slaves to reign
to make believing fooles then give ym pain
their look their smile their action their intent
Shall all against your peace of Soul be bent
Now hope restraining when it forward bears
Now quickning hope when you're restraind by fears
Oft seeming kind then scrupulously nice
& mixing as it were their flames with Ice
to keep confusd irresolute & rackt
those bosoms they by various wayes distract
What pains you then shall feel wt rage express
How many purposes to love ym less
How many oaths to shun their sight you'le swear
Which never shall be kept against the fair
A tear a word thats feignd shall soon restore
their empire & enslave their rebells more
No matter what you saw you must believe
for strange enchantments may the sight deceive
Nay more Ile change my quiver bow & darts
to make mad work within your alterd hearts
Nor ever give the pleasing wounds I usd
Ere you my empire scornd my laws refusd
Here one a nymph that is deformd shall fire
another one to honour lost admire
& while all night by others she's embracd
The wretch shall doat because she acts the chast
Some shall be prodigall their end to gain
Nor know that who gives most shall least obtain
their hopes will still be fed but never don
to keep them still in play & loving on
In short Ile make them feel & own it pain
to live beneath inconstant womans chain
& know their folly when they scornd my reign
& You ye women shall confess it too
repenting that you ere from me withdrew
You who have given wealth its powr to move
& triumph ore the sacred rites of love
Who vice to virtue ignorance to parts
& mony can prefer to faithfull hearts
Who think to sell your selves is nothing mean
& from the prostituted bed reap gain
You never never shall again perceive
the wondrous sweets that mutuall passions have
but for their mighty riches love the great
While even they shall win you by deceit
their purpose in inveagling flattrys hide
& the lost creatures whom they gain deride
then leaving those that can be new no more
the self same arts to others practise ore
by such poor victorys to boast adress
& the faint glorys of their fame increase
As Huntsmen when they have a hare in view
Fird & impatient eagerly pursue
Now ore the mountains now across the plains
& for a little take a world of pains
Unweari'd still they follow with delight
fond of the hunting tho the game they slight
Just so the great their amorous chace shall run
Nor ought to gain you shall be left undon
With oaths & sighs & tears they will assail
but love no more when ever these prevail
Unmindfull then of what had causd their cares
for other beautys they display their snares
While you who soon perceive their broken faith
their oaths no more esteemd then common breath
tho never by my flame divine inspird
Shall inly with a rage of soul be fird
All spight to find your flatterd charms contemnd
& mad to see another more esteemd
for Justly thus my anger does ordain
that you shoud each create ye others pain
When Cupid thus had spoke his wings he spread
& with redoubled springs to heaven fled
Nor were in Idle air his curses lost
Succeeding ages found them to their cost
Ah Madam you alas have found them true
The prophesy is made too good on you
You've had the great become your beautys slave
& by experience know the great deceive
& tho' those starrs of love your charming eyes
Outshine the brightness of the midday skys
tho' your complexion with the morning vies
tho all the Graces which around you wait
Dwell on each part & fill up beautys state
Tho the bright virtues which within remain
Might promise you an everlasting reign
You see the heart was givn to you before
at a new shrine anothers charms adore
But cease my lovely weeper cease to mourn
The fair that triumphs now will have her turn
No charm against inconstancy secures
You know the lovers fire but short endures
& she'le forsaken meet a fate like yours
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Satyr V. Verse
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 Joy & lessen ev'ry grief
Nor do I onely these thy comforts find
thy comforts are diffusive to mankind
The men of sense of buisness or of whims
half witts or lovers ev'ry one sometimes
Will toy away a vacant hour in rimes
& they give all but lovers troubles ease
the Muses fires the flames of love encrease
Yet the fond fooles write more yn all ye rest
as if they studyd to be more unblest
of Moving things they speak in moving strains
& moan & beg a cure of all their pains
till at the last theyre workd to a belief
that what they said has been their reall grief
As strong as fate they call the chains they wear
To starrs & Angells ev'ry nymph compare
Then think their chains as strong, their nymphs as fair
thus our loves more & more the womens pride
so the wounds deeper & the cure denyd
Long may you gentle souls your fetters wear
if still you write upon ye pangs you bear
Yet know that writing makes them more severe
If Celia or Aminta scornfull grow
On the great praises which your lines bestow
Long may you feel them since you make ym so
Verse is on other subjects less unkind
& with its transports brightens up ye mind
the Drunkards catch is half the rogues delight
Where noise & briskness do their charms unite
The drawers calld & ink & paper brought
& so extempore the work is wrought
While wine inspires they never stay for thought
the Jolly words are roard in tunefull sound
While the full bottles run the tables round
& Ecchoes from the Empty ones rebound
Raisd to the Joyes above the cares of kings
their singing makes ym drink their drinking sing
O happy men if twere not for the curse
of qualms repentance & an empty purse
but happy men at least for some few hours
Who force the Muse to nothing else but rime
& when your sense is drownd sing off yr time
Verse has another powr on other men
When the vexd thoughts by writing grow serene
full of the spleen & rage & scorn to see
the tide of vice & folly run so high
some from the world retire to poetry
& when their pens what grieves their bosoms speak
how honesty's a cully witt a rake
fair Virtue beggerd beauty grown a baud
Religion made a masque & gold a God
their breasts find ease by laying down their load
so Prophetts usd inspird of old to swell
& when they spoke their Oracles grew well
For me who never have a drinker been
Nor provd the witty forces of the spleen
for me who be it chance or carelessness
(forgive me half the world when I confess)
have never been in love in all my dayes
On other principles my pen I take
for meer disintrested diversions sake
I onely write as many lovers woo
but just when I have nothing else to do
& then to please my self as well as you
I seek no praise & keep me safe from shame
Not known to many & unknown to fame
I woud not blunty rail a folly down
Nor with undecent rage on vices run
Our master Horace wisely sung of old
that satyrs better if it Jear then scold
the Gall too much prevailing spoils the ink
Nor woul I frett mankind but make ym think
tis farr more human thus to show ye place
Where you ly open then throw in ye pass
poem by Thomas Parnell
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A Dream
Just when ye dead of night began to fail
& boding visions senceless dreams expell
Methought a matron stood beside my bed
Upon her face a wondrous sweetness playd
& pointed Glorys dressd the modest visions head
my tongue grew speechless & my eyes were fixt
by silent fear with admiration mixt
She to my lips a living coal apply's
perhaps from some well pleasing sacrifice
then thus she said while I more courage found
to bear her sight & hear ye heav'nly sound
from the bright realms my vot'ries have I came
saints are my vot'ries Piety my name
Oft do I come but often am dispisd
happy were all if all my favour prizd
now my best offers to yr soul I give
Accept these offers O be mine & live
Ile teach you how to pray for wt you want
& when I teach you God yr prayr will grant
Ile teach you your redeemer to rehearse
& glide in flames of love along yr verse
Lett other men describe wth flowing lines
How Damon courts or Amarillis shines
But for your subject chuse a theme divine
fames their reward while heaven it self is thine
& then since Angells sing of nought below
they'le sing like men but like an angell you
Be thou my bard (& as these words she said
She powrd a sacred unction on my head
then thus proceeded) Be thy muse thy Zeal
dare to be good & all my Joys reveal
if Drunkards to their Deity apply
A short contentment & a fleeting Joy
Apply to me true peace & lasting bliss
I should not dress in weaker charms yn his
New-paint ye love yt hov'ring over beds
from purple wings his guilty pleasures sheds
his bow be sable sable be the darts
but tingd with endless flame to scorch our hearts
his bones without the sanguin stream or vital parts
But above all employ thy utmost powr
on love Divine twill need it all & more
Oh boundless Goodness to poor mankind shown
tell but the fact, lett rhetorick alone,
no colours can become it like its own.
Draw a Descending Jesus from ye sky
Make the great being in a manger ly
Of men despisd of men he came to save
pursu'd afflicted to ye very grave
Make ye great being cheerfully submitt
& me like Mary weeping at his feet
Much have I said & more woud tell you yet
but raptures smother what I woud repeat
My thoughts grow giddy while I strive to sound
the height & depth of love wthout a bound
My God I cannot comprehend thy wayes
but what I cannot comprehend Ile prayse
& then With raptures in her mouth she fled
the Cloud (for on a cloud she seemd to tread)
its curles unfolded & around her spread
My downy rest the warmth of fancy broke
& when my thoughts grew settled thus I spoke
Ah Gracious Lord make all my dreams like this
& make mine innocence compose my bliss
When reason lyes Asleep & leaves to reign
May my good Angell my passions restrain
Or I must wake to find upon my breast
the gaudy forms more deep yn ere imprest
they'le make my reason's victorys in vain
& make my former habits mine again
Thus if the snake wch hardly moves the tail
to shun the conqu'ring season takes a cell
if nature in a sleep a skin prepare
give him more strength & make him look more fair
He finds his robe is changd fm what he wore
He proudly shoots along ye sunny shore
& hunts the man fm whom he fled before.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Concerning Resolution
Happy the man whose firm resolves obtain
Assisting Grace to burst his sinfull chain
For him the Days with golden minutes glow
Tis his the Land where milk & hony flow
Justice & mercy piety & peace
Attend his workes & crown them with success
He hopes the best that is for heavn prepard
& wants no bliss while virtue can reward
That purpled hour which ushers in the light
& that which shuts its beautys up in night
Still hears him pray still sees his actions right
For him they still on easy minutes speed
& as they move for him the rest succeed
But most Alas by vain opinion lead
Ore the wild maze of erring passions tread
& now to this & now to that we go
& each desire & neither rightly know
& act irresolute in all we do
& seldom stay to search our objects through
Desire is vain & wanton free to range
Fond of a Chace & fond the Chace to Change
By turns a thousand inclinations rise
& each by turns as impotently dies
Now thought grows wild if loose Aminta's kind
Shee spreads her Charms & captivates the mind
Anon Aminta leaves the thought at ease
No more her aires & soft Allurements please
We love reclining in ye shady bowers
by running waters near sweet banks of flowrs
To surfeit nature with full bowles of wine
& with forcd appetites on bliss refine
Then buisy then fantastically wise
Then to be some thing else we streight devise
For Fancy still undreind affors supplys
tis thus if reason from the throne be gon
The madd affections bear their master on
His life proves restless & his labour vain
By hurrying after Phantomes of the brain
So the brave Falcon when its glorys fade
When its strong wings their generous forces shed
The vacant holds ignobler birds supply
With Ravens feathers impd she mounts on high
& weak or giddy strayes along the sky
In Every Change indeed resolves we make
But those resolves to settle newer break
By contradictions thus we seem to live
Nor want the colour of a cause to give
Kind heav'n forgive us when for what we do
We woud debauch our knack of reasning too
When int'rest does on thought its force dispence
When pleasure beats upon the dazzled sence
Our resolutions oft in vain are made
Kind heavn forgive the fault & lend thine aid.
If by thy law we must temptations find
If these must try the temper of the mind
We begg thee not to change thy good decree
We begg for pardon or support from thee
Our wisdome never shoud thy ways confine
but thus confess & humbly rest in thine
Tis well theres tryalls since the mans so proud
& since he's weak tis well theres Grace allowd.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Of The Spouse Of Christ
Who's this that cometh from the wilderness,
Like smokey pillars thus perfum'd with myrrh,
Leaning upon her dearest in distress,
Led into's bosom by the Comforter?
She's clothed with the sun, crowned with twelve stars,
The spotted moon her footstool she hath made.
The dragon her assaults, fills her with jars,
Yet rests she under her Beloved's shade,
But whence was she? what is her pedigree?
Was not her father a poor Amorite?
What was her mother but as others be,
A poor, a wretched, and a sinful Hittite.
Yea, as for her, the day that she was born,
As loathsome, out of doors they did her cast;
Naked and filthy, stinking and forlorn;
This was her pedigree from first to last.
Nor was she pitied in this estate,
All let her lie polluted in her blood:
None her condition did commiserate,
There was no heart that sought to do her good.
Yet she unto these ornaments is come,
Her breasts are fashioned, her hair is grown;
She is made heiress of the best kingdom;
All her indignities away are blown.
Cast out she was, but now she home is taken,
Naked (sometimes),
but now, you see, she's cloth'd;
Now made the darling, though before forsaken,
Barefoot, but now as princes' daughters shod.
Instead of filth, she now has her perfumes;
Instead of ignominy, her chains of gold:
Instead of what the beauty most consumes,
Her beauty's perfect, lovely to behold.
Those that attend and wait upon her be
Princes of honour, clothed in white array;
Upon her head's a crown of gold, and she
Eats wheat, honey, and oil, from day to day.
For her beloved, he's the high'st of all,
The only Potentate, the King of kings:
Angels and men do him Jehovah call,
And from him life and glory always springs.
He's white and ruddy, and of all the chief:
His head, his locks, his eyes, his hands, and feet,
Do, for completeness
, out-go all belief;
His cheeks like flowers are, his mouth most sweet.
As for his wealth, he is made heir of all;
What is in heaven, what is on earth is his:
And he this lady his joint-heir doth call,
Of all that shall be, or at present is.
Well, lady, well, God has been good to thee;
Thou of an outcast, now art made a queen.
Few, or none, may with thee compared be,
A beggar made thus high is seldom seen.
Take heed of pride, remember what thou art
By nature, though thou hast in grace a share,
Thou in thyself dost yet retain a part
Of thine own filthiness; wherefore beware.
poem by John Bunyan
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Love and the Gentle Heart
Love and the gentle heart are one thing,
just as the poet says in his verse,
each from the other one as well divorced
as reason from the mind’s reasoning.
Nature craves love, and then creates love king,
and makes the heart a palace where he’ll stay,
perhaps a shorter or a longer day,
breathing quietly, gently slumbering.
Then beauty in a virtuous woman’s face
makes the eyes yearn, and strikes the heart,
so that the eyes’ desire’s reborn again,
and often, rooting there with longing, stays,
Till love, at last, out of its dreaming starts.
Woman’s moved likewise by a virtuous man.
poem by Dante Alighieri
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Doctor B. Of Tears
Who would have thought, there could have bin
Such joy in tears, wept for our sin?
Mine eyes have seen, my heart hath prov'd
The most and best of earthly joyes:
The sweets of love, and being lov'd,
Masks, Feasts, and Playes, and such like toyes.
Yet, this one tear, which now doth fall,
In true delight exceeds them all.
2. Indeed, mine eyes at first let in
Those guests that did these woes begin,
Therefore mine eyes in tears, and grief,
Are justly drown'd: but, that those tears
Should comfort bring, is past belief:
Oh God! in this thy grace appears,
Thou that mak'st light from darkness spring,
Mak'st joyes to weep, and sorrows sing.
3. Oh where am I? what may I think?
Help, help, alas my heart doth sink;
Thus lost in seas of woe,
Thus laden with my sin,
Waves of despair dash in,
And threat my overthrow.
What heart opprest with such a weight
Can chuse but break, and perish quite?
4. Yet, as at Sea in storms, men use
The Ship to save, the goods to lose;
So, in this fearfull storm,
This danger to prevent,
Before all hope be spent,
I'le chuse the lesser harm:
My tears to seas will convert,
And drown my eyes to save my heart.
5. Oh God my God, what shall I give
To thee in thanks? I am and live
In thee, and thou didst safe preserve
My health, my fame, my goods, my rent,
Thou mak'st me eat while others sterve;
Such unto me thy Blessings are,
As if I were thy only care.
6. But, oh my God! thou art more kind,
When I look inward on my mind:
Thou fill'st my heart with humble joy,
With patience, meekness, fervant love,
(Which doth all other loves destroy)
With faith (which nothing can remove)
And hope assur'd of heavens bliss;
This is my state: thy grace is this.
poem by Henry Wotton
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To The Same Flower (second poem)
With little here to do or see
Of things that in the great world be,
Daisy! again I talk to thee,
For thou art worthy,
Thou unassuming Common-place
Of Nature, with that homely face,
And yet with something of a grace,
Which Love makes for thee!
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similies,
Loose types of things through all degrees,
Thoughts of thy raising:
And many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame,
As is the humour of the game,
While I am gazing.
A nun demure of lowly port;
Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court,
In thy simplicity the sport
Of all temptations;
A queen in crown of rubies drest;
A starveling in a scanty vest;
Are all, as seems to suit thee best,
Thy appellations.
A little cyclops, with one eye
Staring to threaten and defy,
That thought comes next--and instantly
The freak is over,
The shape will vanish--and behold
A silver shield with boss of gold,
That spreads itself, some faery bold
In fight to cover!
I see thee glittering from afar--
And then thou art a pretty star;
Not quite so fair as many are
In heaven above thee!
Yet like a star, with glittering crest,
Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;--
May peace come never to his nest,
Who shall reprove thee!
Bright 'Flower'! for by that name at last,
When all my reveries are past,
I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
Sweet silent creature!
That breath'st with me in sun and air,
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
My heart with gladness, and a share
Of thy meek nature!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Not With These Eyes
Let me not see your grief!
O, let not any see
That grief,
Nor how your heart still rocks
Like a temple with long earthquake shocks.
Let me not see
Your grief.
These eyes have seen such wrong,
Yet remained cold:
Ills grown strong,
Corruption's many-headed worm
Destroying feet that moved so firm--
Shall these eyes see
Your grief?
And that black worm has crawled
Into the brain
Where thought had walked
Nobly, and love and honour moved as one,
And brave things bravely were begun....
Now, can thought see
Unabashed your grief?
Into that brain your grief
Has run like cleansing fire:
Your grief
Through these unfaithful eyes has leapt
And touched honour where it lightly slept.
Now when I see
In memory your grief
There is no thought that's not
Yours, yours,
No love that sleeps,
No spiritual door that opens not
In the green quiet village of thought
Shining with light,
And silent to your silence.
poem by John Freeman
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Man
My God, I heard this day,
That none doth build a stately habitation,
But he that means to dwell therein.
What house more stately hath there been,
Or can be, than is Man? to whose creation
All things are in decay.
For Man is ev'ry thing,
And more:
He is a tree, yet bears no fruit;
A beast, yet is, or should be more:
Reason and speech we only bring.
Parrots may thank us, if they are not mute,
They go upon the score.
Man is all symmetry,
Full of proportions, one limb to another,
And all to all the world besides:
Each part may call the farthest brother:
For head with foot hath private amity,
And both with moons and tides.
Nothing hath got so far,
But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey.
His eyes dismount the highest star:
He is in little all the sphere.
Herbs gladly cure our flesh; because that they
Find their acquaintance there.
For us the winds do blow,
The earth doth rest, heav'n move, and fountains flow.
Nothing we see, but means our good,
As our delight, or as our treasure:
The whole is, either our cupboard of food,
Or cabinet of pleasure.
The stars have us to bed;
Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws;
Music and light attend our head.
All things unto our flesh are kind
In their descent and being; to our mind
In their ascent and cause.
Each thing is full of duty:
Waters united are our navigation;
Distinguished, our habitation;
Below, our drink; above, our meat;
Both are our cleanliness.
Hath one such beauty?
Then how are all things neat?
More servants wait on Man,
Than he'll take notice of: in ev'ry path
He treads down that which doth befriend him,
When sickness makes him pale and wan.
Oh mighty love! Man is one world, and hath
Another to attend him.
Since then, my God, thou hast
So brave a palace built; O dwell in it,
That it may dwell with thee at last!
Till then, afford us so much wit;
That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee,
And both thy servants be.
poem by George Herbert
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Before the Birth of One of Her Children
All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joys attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
But with death's parting blow is sure to meet.
The sentence past is most irrevocable,
A common thing, yet oh, inevitable.
How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend.
How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
We both are ignorant, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when that knot's untied that made us one,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.
And if I see not half my days that's due,
What nature would, God grant to yours and you;
The many faults that well you know
I have Let be interred in my oblivious grave;
If any worth or virtue were in me,
Let that live freshly in thy memory
And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harms,
Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms.
And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains
Look to my little babes, my dear remains.
And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me,
These O protect from step-dame's injury.
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,
With some sad sighs honour my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love's dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Forsaking My Love
I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth
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poem by Michael Silver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smile!
Smile,
Look at the sky,
Forget about everything and just,
Smile!
Laugh,
Open your mouth,
And throw back your head and just,
Laugh!
Dance,
Move your body to the music,
Or move to the rhythm of silence and just,
Dance!
Sing,
Open your heart,
Let out all your thoughts and just,
Sing!
Speak,
Say hi to people you know,
Open a conversation with people you don't and just,
Speak!
Run,
No one can fence you in,
Move your feet one in front of the other and just,
Run!
Love,
Like you have nothing to be ashamed of,
Take someone in your arms and just,
Love!
Dream,
You can do anything you want to,
Keep hope, reason, and will, and just,
Dream!
Live,
Today and tomorrow and the next day,
No matter when it ends make it worth it, and just,
Live!
Believe,
Know what you know and share what you think,
No one can bring you down if you just,
Believe!
Celebrate,
Everything and anything,
It's all in your life and that's a reason to just,
Celebrate!
Fly,
Lift your arms with joy and hope,
Spread the wings of your heart and just,
Fly!
Listen,
If your interested or not,
These are the voices of others like you just,
Listen!
Trust,
That no one and everyone should have that chance,
Give everyone it to everyone and just,
Trust!
See,
Not only with your eyes but your mind,
With your body, spirit, and soul, just,
See!
It's not hard to be happy.
One simple choice.
One god given right of 'pursuit of happiness'.
One choice to look at things and just,
SMILE! : D
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Beyond All Reason
I love you beyond all reason
My love, my sweet, my soul devout
For you are all that is beautiful
To the eye of my hearts mind
And what more could make me feel
Such pining and longing as you
When I look upon your smile
These eyes windows to my soul
Look inside and see your reflection
For all I choose to see is you my love
You who I call all beautiful
Of the fairest heart and gentle nature
You are the love personified in verse
As near perfect as I dare to speak
And what reason or understanding exists
In the throws of such unrelenting thought
No, there is none I know of
All that there is, is an exclamation
I love you beyond all reason
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Love said.. a paraphrase of a study group on Love
Love said,
I made you
Your body was conceived in love.
Your mind was conceived in love.
Your spirit was conceived in love.
I made your body to stand,
to walk, to dance, to make love
in love.
I made your senses
to touch love, to taste love,
to see love, to find space in love,
to hear love, everywhere
for I made everywhere
I made your mind
to know love’s substance
which no alteration finds,
to know the flow of love,
the fire of love, love in the air,
to hear what love speaks;
to know love in your reason,
to reason love;
to know why love is everywhere;
to know how to find love in hate;
to know why justice, mercy, grace, are love;
to know love in surrender;
to know how love turns faith to love;
to know love’s play in love’s creation;
to know that love is always now;
to know love's neighbour is yourself;
and when least visible,
to know love frees and balances;
to know why all seek love.
I made your spirit and your heart,
I made your very self
as every self
to be Myself; to show Myself;
Love said
I made you.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Tom Zart Love Poems
MY WILD ROSE
You 're the full moon of my nights
And the sunshine of my day
Like a queen upon her throne
You rule what I do and say.
It's God who makes us beautiful
And the Devil who makes us mean
It all depends on whom we follow
Which way our lives shall lean.
With one foot in the future
And one foot in the past
Let us try to live our days
As though each was our last.
You're the wild rose of my life
My flower of desire
Made by God for me alone
Out of earth, stars and fire.
ESTHER'S LOVE
Esther of God's Bible became a king's queen
Risking all for the sake of love.
She saved her people form total extinction
By responding to her call from above.
All through history just like Esther
Ladies have pledged to protect and serve.
They love, honor, defend and provide
And it's our admiration they've earned and deserve.
What would life be without a woman's love
Meaningless, lonely, purposeless and sad.
When your blessed by an Esther love her in return
And be sure to let God know you're thankful and glad.
EYES OF LOVE
A mind may see a thousand eyes
Though the heart yearns for two
When the eyes we love have up and gone
To the arms of someone new.
Eyes that twinkle, I distrust
For they are the distant stars.
Eyes in love have a steady glow
Like Venus, the Moon or Mars.
Eyes of love, like planets at night
Use borrowed light to shine.
Eyes are the living lenses
To the camera of our mind.
Eyes tend to believe themselves
Like the blind love of mothers.
Eyes speak without words
To the hearts and souls of others.
LOVE
No rope or cable can hold so tight
What love can do with twine.
No kiss can taste so bittersweet
As the one which captures our mind.
The first sign of love is the last of wisdom
As eager hearts fulfill desire.
Love is just a staple of life
Though heaven sparks the fire.
Heaven knows no rage like love
Once to hatred it has turned.
How wise are we who are such fools
Who forget the lessons we've learned.
Love, indeed, descends from heaven
Like a shooting star across the sky.
Love sometimes stirs the dust,
Till tears fall free from the eye.
DARLING I LOVE YOU
Darling I love you with all of my heart and soul
Much more than any of God's blessings on Earth.
It's hard to believe Heaven planned it this way
For your love for me is far beyond my worth.
Life would be meaningless without your love
With no one to cherish, honor, protect and provide.
I treasure our moments and all that we share
You're always my angel of love, at my side.
I love how you love me beyond all compare
I've never seen anyone so wonderful so long.
I can't help but love you absolutely and completely
For every time I think of you my heart sings a song.
Every night before sleep I say thank you to Heaven
For the past day I was allowed to love you and serve.
And if I awake I say thank you once more
For God has blessed me far beyond what I deserve.
Romance Personified
Tranquility of the cherry blossom
Beautiful lady sits pensively
Whiling away the hours
Contemplating her destiny
Lay down your weary head to slumber
May you dream per chance
Behind the shadows of reality
Of invitation for romance
Delicate as a butterfly
Adorned in purple elegance
Errant thoughts and heart a flutter
Young girl's notion of romance
Away with the fairies
Is where she longs to be
Engulfed in nature's splendour
So she may dream of thee
The art of seduction
Unveiling eyes to fan the flame
Concealing innermost desires
Demurely playing the waiting game
The pursuit of love and happiness
Is what makes life worthwhile
Respect and honour mutually
And celebrate passion without guile
poem by Lynne Howard
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