Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works in Prose and Verse. The Text Edited by A. R. Waller |
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Fragments Written
At Down-Hall. |
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 | Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works |  |
324
Fragments Written At Down-Hall.
For when your Judge becomes your Foe
Think nor to give nor ward the blow
The danger prudently to shun
Forbear to plead and learn to run
What good can Culprits staying do
When Laws explain'd by Pow'r pursue?
Avails it [a]ught what you can say
If all the Bench resolves the Nay?
When Truth out-voted comes too late
What does She but Prevaricate?
The Circumstances change the case,
'Tis now no Tryal but a race,
What signifies Achilles speed
But to be rid in time of need?
When angry Paris aim'd the Dart
Against the Heroes Mortal part
Instead of Fighting, had he fled,
His Heel might have secur'd his Head.
Think nor to give nor ward the blow
The danger prudently to shun
Forbear to plead and learn to run
What good can Culprits staying do
When Laws explain'd by Pow'r pursue?
Avails it [a]ught what you can say
If all the Bench resolves the Nay?
When Truth out-voted comes too late
What does She but Prevaricate?
The Circumstances change the case,
'Tis now no Tryal but a race,
What signifies Achilles speed
But to be rid in time of need?
When angry Paris aim'd the Dart
Against the Heroes Mortal part
Instead of Fighting, had he fled,
His Heel might have secur'd his Head.
To her loose dress She calls some foreign Aid
That shows the wanton fears to dye a Maid
Some flow'ry Honor from the neighbo'ring field
Or Emblem taken from her Lovers Shield
Yet when her fine degrees thy Column rise
Their secret charms illude our captive Eyes
With too much Science we admire Thee wrought
Yet praise thy Beauty while we own thy Fault.
That shows the wanton fears to dye a Maid
Some flow'ry Honor from the neighbo'ring field
Or Emblem taken from her Lovers Shield
Yet when her fine degrees thy Column rise
Their secret charms illude our captive Eyes
With too much Science we admire Thee wrought
Yet praise thy Beauty while we own thy Fault.
The Plowshares now deform the martial plain
Raking the Sculls of the once glorious Slain.
Still craving yet stil Roger cry'd
I'll live to-Morrow but to-Night he dy'd
Strange the delusion of his hopes and fears
While that he Starv'd himself to cram his heirs.
Raking the Sculls of the once glorious Slain.
325
I'll live to-Morrow but to-Night he dy'd
Strange the delusion of his hopes and fears
While that he Starv'd himself to cram his heirs.
Stil base to those who meant Thee well
Ungrateful stil to those that rais'd Thee.
Forget my too officious Zeal
And pardon Me if I have prais'd Thee.
Ungrateful stil to those that rais'd Thee.
Forget my too officious Zeal
And pardon Me if I have prais'd Thee.
| Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works | |