 | A collection of original poems |  |
15
The chronicle of a Heart.
In imitation of Cowley.
By the same.
I
How often my heart has by love been o'erthrown,What grand revolutions its empire has known,
You ask me, dear friend; then attend the sad strain,
Since you bid me renew such ineffable pain.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
II
For who that has got e'er an eye in his pate,So dismal a tale without tears can relate;
Or who such dire annals recall to his mind,
Without bursting in sighs, both before and behind?
III
This kingdom, as authors impartial have told,At first was elective, but afterwards sold;
For experience will show whoe'er pleases to try,
That kingdoms are venal when subjects can buy.
IV
Lovely Peggy, the first in succession and name,Was early invested with honour supreme;
But a bold son of Mars, who grew fond of her form,
Swore himself into grace, and surpris'd her by storm.
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V
Maria succeeded in honour and place,By laughing and squeezing, and song and grimace;
But her favours, alas, like her carriage, were free,
Bestow'd on the whole male creation but me.
VI
Next Marg'ret the second attempted the chace;Though the small pox and age had enamell'd her face,
She sustain'd her pretence sans merite et sans loix,
And carried her point by a Je ne scais quoi.
VII
The heart which so tamely acknowledg'd her sway,Still suffer'd in silence, and kept her at bay,
Till old Time had at last so much mellow'd her charms,
That she dropt with a breeze in a liv'ryman's arms.
VIII
The next easy conquest, Belinda, was thine,Obtain'd by the musical tinkle of coin:
But she, more enamour'd of sport than of prey,
Had a fish in her hook which she wanted to play.
IX
High hopes were her baits; but if truth were confess'd,A good still in prospect is not good possess'd;
For the fool found too late he had taken a tartar,
Retreated with wounds, and begg'd stoutly for quarter.
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X
Urania came next, and with subtle address,Discover'd no open attempts to possess:
But when fairly admitted, of conquest secure,
She acknowledg'd no law but her will and her pow'r.
XI
For seven tedious-years, to get rid of her chain,All force prov'd abortive, all stratagem vain,
Till a youth with much fatness and gravity blest,
Her person detain'd by a lawful arrest.
XII
To a reign so despotic, though guiltless of blood,No wonder a long interregnum ensu'd;
For an ass, though the patientest brute of the plain,
Once jaded and gall'd, will beware of the rein.
XIII
Now the kingdom stands doubtful itself to surrender,To Cloe the sprightly, or Celia the slender:
But if once it were out of this pitiful case,
No law but the Salic henceforth shall take place.
| A collection of original poems | |