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University of Virginia Library

Poems on Several Occasions

Written by Charles Cotton

Cotton, Charles (1630-1687)

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The Expostulation.

Taking leave of Chloris.

Resolution in four Sonnets, of a Poetical Question put to me by a Friend, concerning four Rural Sisters.

On my pretty Marten.

The Joys of Marriage.

Writ in Calista's Prayer-Book.

ODE. To Chloris.

To John Bradshaw, Esq

On Rutt: the Judge.

On Sim and Simon.

La Illustrissima.

Chanson a Boire.

The Angler's Ballad.

Epistle to John Bradshaw Esq;

Burlesque. Upon the Great Frost.

To my dear and most worthy Friend, Mr. Isaac Walton.

To the Countess of Chesterfield, on the Birth of her first Son.

Old Tityrus to Eugenia.

Epistle to John Bradshaw Esq;

Epistle to John Bradshaw, Esq;

The Retirement.

Stanzes de Monsieur Bertaud.

The eighth Psalm paraphrased.

Amoret in Masquerade.

Epigramme de Monsieur des-Portes.

Epigramme de Monsieur Cotin.

Epigramme de Monsieur Maynard.

A Voyage to Ireland in Burlesque.

Εις το δουιν πινειν

On Christmas-day.

The Morning Quatrains.

Noon Quatrains.

Ode de Monsieur Racan.

Stances de Monsieur de Scudery.

Epistle to the Earl of ---

Q. Cicero, De mulierum levitate.

On the Death of the Most Noble Thomas Earl of Ossory.

Epistle to Sir Clifford Clifton, then sitting in Parliament.

Stances de Monsieur Bertaud.

Forbidden Fruit.

On One, who said, He drank to clear his Eyes.

The Separation.

Another of the same.

On the great Eater of Grays-Inn.

An Epitaph on my Dear Aunt, Mrs. Ann Stanhope.

An Epitaph on M. H.

Song. Montross.

A Journey into the Peak.

Epitaph On Mr. Robert Port.

Sir William Davenant

To Sir William Davenant.

To my Friend Mr. John Anderson.

Epitaph On Mrs. Mary Draper.

On the Lamented Death Of my Dear Uncle, Mr. Radcliff Stanhope.

On the Lord Derby.

To Cælia's Ague.

Love's Triumph.

To my friend Mr. Lely, on his Picture of the Excellently Virtuous Lady, the Lady Isabella Thynn.

Taking Leave of Chloris.

An Old Man's Gift to a Fair Lady.

In Amorem Medicum.

The Legend of the Famous, Furious, Expert, and Valiant Gittar-Masters, Caveliero Comer, and Don Hill.

On Annel-seed Robin, the Hermophrodite.

ODE. To Chloris from France.

An Invitation to Phillis.

The Entertainment to Phillis.

To some Great Ones.

To the Memory of my worthy Friend Colonel Richard Lovelace.

An Epitaph on Robert Port, Esq; design'd for a Monument:

To Cupid, a foolish Poet, occasion'd by as foolish a Poem of his to a bona Roba.

Philoxipes and Policrite.

To Mr. Alexander Brome.

Laura Sleeping.

To Sir Aston Cockayne, on Captain Hanniball.

In imitation of a Song in the Play of Rollo.

To Sir Aston Cockayne, on his Tragedy of Ovid.

De Die Martis, & Die Veneris.

TRANSLATIONS Out of several POETS.

An ELEGY upon the Lord Hastings.

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425

Love's Triumph.

I

God Cupid's Power was ne're so shown,
Since first the Boy could draw a bow;
In all past Ages, as this one,
This Love-sick Age we live in now:
Now He, and She, from high to low,
Or Lovers are, or would seem so.

II

His arrows now are every where,
In every Lip, and every Eye,
From Young, from Old, from Foul, and Fair,
This little Archer lets them fly:
He is a Traytor to Love's Throne,
That has no love, or seems t'have none.

III

If she be young, and fair, we do
Think her the blessing of this Life,
And, out of that opinion woe
Her for a Mistress, or a Wife,

426

And if they think us able Men,
The pretty Souls will love again.

IV

Or, if she be a Wife, and that
A jealous Ass corrupts her Bed,
We build our pleasures on his Fate,
And for her sake do crown his Head,
So what he fears a Truth doth prove,
And what's this but a trick of Love?

V

If she be left a Widdow, then
Her first Amours have warm'd her Blood,
She'll think us Puppies or no Men
Should not her wants be understood,
Pitty then makes us Lovers prove,
And, Pitty is the child of Love.

VI

If she be wither'd, and yet itch
To do as once in time of old,
We love a little, for she's rich,
Though, but to scare away the cold,

427

She has (no doubt) the gift t'asswage,
Then never stand upon her age.

VII

Thus Maid, Wife, Widdow do all wound,
Though each one with a different Eye,
And we by Love, to love are bound,
Either in heat, or policy,
That is, we love, or say we do,
Women, we love our selves; or you.

VIII

Cupid may now slacken his nerve,
Hang Bow, and Quiver in some place
As useless grown, useless they serve,
For Trophies of what once he was,
Love's grown a Fashion of the mind,
And we shall henceforth love by kind.

IX

Lord! what a Childish Ape was this,
How vain improvident an Elf,
To conquer all at once, when 'tis
Alas! a triumph ore himself?

428

He has usurp'd his own fear'd Throne,
Since now there's nothing to be done.

X

And yet there is, there is one prize
Lock'd in an adamantine Breast;
Storm that then, Love, if thou be'st wise,
A Conquest above all the rest,
Her Heart, who binds all Hearts in chains,
Castanna's Heart untouch'd remains.