The Poems of Charles Sackville Sixth Earl of Dorset: Edited by Brice Harris |
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| Four Poems on the Countess of Dorchester |
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 | The Poems of Charles Sackville |  |
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Four Poems on the Countess of Dorchester
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I.
[Sylvia, methinks you are unfit]
Sylvia, methinks you are unfit
For your great Lord's embrace;
For tho' we all allow you wit,
We can't a handsome face.
For your great Lord's embrace;
For tho' we all allow you wit,
We can't a handsome face.
Then where's the pleasure, where's the good
Of spending time and cost?
For if your wit ben't understood,
Your keeper's bliss is lost
Of spending time and cost?
For if your wit ben't understood,
Your keeper's bliss is lost
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II.
[Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes]
Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes,
United, cast too fierce a light,
Which blazes high but quickly dies,
Warms not the heart but hurts the sight.
United, cast too fierce a light,
Which blazes high but quickly dies,
Warms not the heart but hurts the sight.
Love is a calm and tender joy,
Kind are his looks and soft his pace;
Her Cupid is a blackguard boy
That runs his link into your face.
Kind are his looks and soft his pace;
Her Cupid is a blackguard boy
That runs his link into your face.
III.
[Proud with the spoils of royal cully]
Proud with the spoils of royal cully,
With false pretence to wit and parts,
She swaggers like a batter'd bully
To try the tempers of men's hearts.
With false pretence to wit and parts,
She swaggers like a batter'd bully
To try the tempers of men's hearts.
Tho' she appears as gay and fine
As jet and gems and paint can make her,
She ne'er shall win a heart like mine—
The devil or Sir Davy take her.
As jet and gems and paint can make her,
She ne'er shall win a heart like mine—
The devil or Sir Davy take her.
Her bed is like the Scripture feast,
Where none who were invited came,
So disappointed of her guest,
She took up with the blind and lame.
Where none who were invited came,
So disappointed of her guest,
She took up with the blind and lame.
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IV.
[Tell me, Dorinda, why so gay]
Tell me, Dorinda, why so gay,
Why such embroid'ry, fringe, and lace?
Can any dresses find a way
To stop th'approaches of decay
And mend thy ruin'd face?
Why such embroid'ry, fringe, and lace?
Can any dresses find a way
To stop th'approaches of decay
And mend thy ruin'd face?
Wilt thou still sparkle in the box,
And ogle in the ring?
Canst thou forget thy age and pox?
Can all that shines on shells and rocks
Make thee a fine young thing?
And ogle in the ring?
Canst thou forget thy age and pox?
Can all that shines on shells and rocks
Make thee a fine young thing?
So have I seen in larder dark
Of veal a lucid loin,
Replete with many a heatless spark,
As wise philosophers remark,
At once both stink and shine.
Of veal a lucid loin,
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As wise philosophers remark,
At once both stink and shine.
| The Poems of Charles Sackville | |