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 | A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes |  |
EPIGRAMS.
By the Same.
EPIGRAM I.
[I lov'd thee beautiful and kind]
I lov'd thee beautiful and kind,And plighted an eternal vow;
So alter'd are thy face and mind,
'Twere perjury to love thee now.
235
EPIGRAM II.
[Since first you knew my am'rous smart]
Since first you knew my am'rous smart,Each day augments your proud disdain;
'Twas then enough to break my heart,
And now, thank heav'n! to break my chain.
Cease, thou scorner, cease to shun me!
Now let love and hatred cease!
Half that rigour had undone me,
All that rigour gives me peace.
EPIGRAM III.
[My heart still hovering round about you]
My heart still hovering round about you,I thought I could not live without you;
Now we have liv'd three months asunder,
How I liv'd with you is the wonder.
EPIGRAM IV. Upon the Bust of English worthies, at Stow.
Among these chiefs of British race,Who live in breathing stone,
Why has not Cobham's bust a place?
The structure was his own.
EPIGRAM V.
[Tho' cheerful, discreet, and with freedom well bred]
Tho' cheerful, discreet, and with freedom well bred,She never repented an idle word said:
Securely she smiles on the forward and bold,
They feel what they owe her, and feel it untold.
236
EPIGRAM VI.
[Lye on! while my revenge shall be]
Lye on! while my revenge shall be,To speak the very truth of thee.
EPIGRAM VII.
[I swore I lov'd, and you believ'd]
I swore I lov'd, and you believ'd,Yet, trust me, we were both deceiv'd;
Tho' all I swore, was true.
I lov'd one gen'rous, good, and kind,
A form created in my mind;
And thought that form was you.
EPIGRAM VIII. On Mrs. Penelope.
The gentle Pen with look demure,Awhile was thought a virgin pure:
But Pen, as ancient poets say,
Undid by night the work of day.
EPIGRAM IX. On one who first abused, and then made love to a Lady.
Foul --- with graceless verse,The noble --- dar'd asperse.
But when he saw her well bespatter'd,
Her reputation stain'd and tatter'd;
237
She look'd so very like himself.
True sung the bard well known to fame,
Self-love and social are the same.
EPIGRAM X.
[While Lucy, chaste as mountain snows]
While Lucy, chaste as mountain snows,Gives every idle fop a hearing;
In Mary's breast a passion glows,
Which stronger is from not appearing.
Say, who has chose the better part!
Mary to whom no joy is missing;
Or she, who dupe to her own heart,
Pays the full price of Mary's kissing.
EPIGRAM XI.
[She who in secret yields her heart]
She who in secret yields her heart,Again may claim it from her lover;
But she who plays the trifler's part,
Can ne'er her squander'd fame recover.
Then grant the boon for which I pray!
'Tis better lend than throw away.
EPIGRAM XII.
[We thought you without titles great]
We thought you without titles great,And wealthy with a small estate;
While by your humble self alone,
You seem unrated and unknown.
238
High-borne, in all the pomp of pride;
Of grandeur vain and fond of pelf,
'Tis plain, my lord, you knew yourself.
EPIGRAM XIII.
[Lovely shines thy wedded fair]
Lovely shines thy wedded fair,Gentle as the yielding air;
Cheering as the solar beam,
Soothing as the fountain-stream.
Why then, jealous husband, rail?
All may breathe the ambient gale,
Bask in heaven's diffusive ray,
Drink the streams that pass away.
All may share unless'ning joy,
Why then jealous, peevish boy?
Water, air, and light confine,
Ere thou think'st her only thine.
EPIGRAM XIV.
[Tom thought a wild profusion great]
Tom thought a wild profusion great:And therefore spent his whole estate:
Will thinks the wealthy are ador'd,
And gleans what misers blush to hoard.
Their passion, merit, fate the same,
They thirst and starve alike for fame.
139
EPIGRAM XV. To Clarissa.
Why like a tyrant wilt thou reign,When thou may'st rule the willing mind?
Can the poor pride of giving pain
Repay the joys that wait the kind?
I curse my fond enduring heart,
Which scorn'd presumes not to be free,
Condemn'd to feel a double smart,
To hate myself, and burn for thee.
EPIGRAM XVI.
[Ever busy'd, ne'er employ'd]
Ever busy'd, ne'er employ'd,Ever loving, ne'er enjoy'd,
Ever doom'd to seek and miss,
And pay unbless'd the price of bliss.
EPIGRAM XVI.
[Vainly hath heaven denounc'd the woman's woes]
Vainly hath heaven denounc'd the woman's woes,Thou know'st no tender cares, no bitter woes,
Unfelt your offspring comes, unfelt it goes.
| A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes | |