The Poems of Charles Sackville :: :: University of Virginia Library

To all you ladies now at land,
We men at sea do write,
But first I hope you'll understand
How hard 'tis to indite:
The muses now and Neptune too
We must implore to write to you.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

2

For though the muses should be kind
And fill our empty brain,
Yet when rough Neptune calls the wind
To rouse the azure main,
Our paper, ink, and pen, and we
Roll up and down our ships at sea.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

3

Then, if we write not by each post,
Think not we are unkind,
Nor yet conclude that we are lost
By Dutch or else by wind;
Our tears we'll send a speedier way:
The tide shall bring them twice a day.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

4

With wonder and amaze the king
Will vow his seas grow bold,
Because the tides more waters bring
Than they were wont of old;
But you must tell him that our cares
Send floods of grief to Whitehall Stairs.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

5

To pass the tedious hours away,
We throw the merry main,
Or else at serious ombre play;
But why should we in vain
Each other's ruin thus pursue?
We were undone when we left you.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

6

If foggy Opdam did but know
Our sad and dismal story,
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And leave the port of Goree;
For what resistance can they find
From men that left their hearts behind?
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

7

Let wind and weather do their worst,
Be you to us but kind;
Let Frenchmen vapor, Dutchmen curse,
No sorrow shall we find:
'Tis then no matter how things go,
Nor who's our friend, nor who's our foe.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

8

In justice, you cannot refuse
To think of our distress,
Since we in hope of honor lose
Our certain happiness;
All our designs are but to prove
Ourselves more worthy of your love.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

9

Alas! our fears tempestuous grow
And cast our hopes away,
While you, unmindful of our woe,
Sit careless at a play:
And now permit some happier man
To kiss your busk and wag your fan.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

10

When any mournful tune you hear,
That dies in every note
As if it sighed for each man's care
For being so remote,
Think then how oft our love we made
To you while all those tunes were played.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

11

And now we have told our love,
And also all our fears,
We hope our declarations move
Some pity for our tears;
Let's hear of no inconstancy—
We have too much of that at sea.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

To Phyllis

Phyllis, though your powerful charms
Have forc'd me from my Celia's arms,
That sure defence against all powers
But those resistless eyes of yours,
Think not your conquest to maintain
By rigor or unjust disdain.
In vain, fair nymph, in vain you strive
For love does seldom hope survive;
My heart may languish for a time,
While all your glories in their prime
May justify such cruelty
By the same force that conquer'd me.
When age shall come, at whose command
Those troops of beauties must disband,
A tyrant's strength once took away,
What slave so dull as to obey?
Those threatening dangers to remove,
Make me believe at least you love;
Dissemble well and by that art
Preserve and govern still my heart.
But if you'll choose another way
To save your empire from decay,
Oh then forever fix your throne:
Be kind, but kind to me alone.

Knotting

At noon in a sunshiny day
The brightest lady of the May,
Young Chloris innocent and gay,
Sat knotting in a shade.

Each slender finger play'd its part
With such activity and art
As would inflame a youthful heart
And warm the most decay'd.

Her favorite swain by chance came by
No sight could better please her eye;
Yet when the bashful boy drew nigh,
She wou'd have seem'd afraid.

She let her ivory needle fall,
And hurl'd away the twisted ball,
But straight gave Strephon such a call,
As wou'd have rais'd the dead.

“Dear gentle youth, is't none but thee?
With innocence I dare be free;
By so much trust and modesty,
No nymph was e'er betray'd.

Come lean they head upon my lap,
While thy smooth cheeks I stroke and clap;
Thou may'st securely take a nap”:
Which he, poor fool, obey'd.

She saw him yawn and heard him snore,
And found him fast asleep all o'er.
She sigh'd, and cou'd endure no more,
But starting up she said,

“Such virtue shall rewarded be:
For this thy dull fidelity,
I'll trust thee with my flocks, not me,
Pursue thy grazing trade.

Go milk thy goats, and shear thy sheep,
And watch all night thy flocks to keep;
Thou shalt no more be lull'd asleep
By me, mistaken maid.”

Song

[Corydon beneath a willow]

Corydon beneath a willow,
By a murmuring current laid,
His arm reclin'd, the lover's pillow,
Thus address'd the charming maid.

O! my Sacharissa, tell
How could Nature take delight,
That a heart so hard should dwell
In a frame so soft and white.

Could you feel but half the anguish,
Half the tortures that I bear,
How for you I daily languish,
You'd be kind as you are fair.

See the fire that in me reigns,
O! behold a burning man;
Think I feel my dying pains,
And be cruel if you can.

With her conquest pleas'd, the dame
Cry'd, with an insulting look,

Yes, I fain would quench your flame;
She spoke, and pointed to the brook.

A Song to Chloris, from the Blind Archer

Ah! Chloris, 'tis time to disarm your bright eyes,
And lay by those terrible glances;
We live in an age that's more civil and wise
Than to follow the rules of romances.

When once your round bubbies begin but to pout,
They'll allow you no long time of courting;
And you'll find it a very hard task to hold out,
For all maidens are mortal at fourteen.

The Advice

Phyllis, for shame let us improve
A thousand several ways
These few short minutes stol'n by love
From many tedious days.

Whilst you want courage to despise
The censure of the grave,
For all the tyrants in your eyes
Your heart is but a slave.

My love is full of noble pride
And never will submit
To let that fop, discretion, ride
In triumph over it.

False friends I have, as well as you,
Who daily counsel me
Fame and ambition to pursue,
And leave off loving thee.

When I the least belief bestow
On what such fools advise,
May I be dull enough to grow
Most miserably wise.

A Song

[May the ambitious ever find]

May the ambitious ever find
Reward in crowds and noise,
Whilst gentle love does fill my mind
With silent real joys.

May fools and knaves grow rich and great,
And the world think 'em wise,
Whilst I lie dying at her feet,
And all that world despise.

Let conquering kings new trophies raise,
And melt in court delights:
Her eyes can give me brighter days,
Her arms much softer nights.

A Song

[Phyllis, the fairest of love's foes]

Phyllis, the fairest of love's foes,
Yet fiercer than a dragon,
Phyllis that scorn'd the powder'd beaus
What has she now to brag on?
Since while she kept her legs so close,
Her breech had scarce a rag on.

Compell'd by want, this wretched maid
Did sad complaints begin,
Which surly Strephon, hearing, said
It was both shame and sin
To pity such a lazy jade
That wou'd neither kiss nor spin.

Advice to Lovers

Damon, if thou wilt believe me,
'Tis not sighing round the plain;
Song nor sonnet can relieve thee;
Faint attempts in love are vain.

Urge but home the fair occasion,
And be master of the field;
To a powerful kind invasion,
'Twere a madness not to yield.

Tho' she swears she'll ne'er permit you,
Cries you're rude and much to blame;
And with tears implores your pity,
Be not mercifull, for shame.

When the fierce assault is over,
Chloris time enough may find
This, her cruel furious lover,
Much more gentle, not so kind.

Love gives out a large commission,
Still indulgent to the brave;
But one sin of base omission
Never woman yet forgave.

But true vigour in performing,
Turns the tragic scene to farce;
And she'll rise appeas'd next morning,
With dry eyes and a wet a---.

The Advice

Would you in love succeed, be brisk, be gay,
Cast all dull thoughts and serious looks away;
Think not with down cast eyes and mournful air
To move to pity the relentless fair,
Or draw from her bright eyes a crystal tear.
This method foreign is to your affair,
Too formal for the frolic you prepare:
Thus, when you think she yields to love's advance,
You'll find 'tis no consent but compliasance.
Whilst he who boldly rifles all her charms,
Kisses and ravishes her in his arms,
Seizes the favor, stays not for a grant,
Alarms her blood and makes her sigh and pant,
Gives her no time to speak or think't a crime,
Enjoys his wish and well employs his time.

The Fire of Love

The fire of love in youthful blood,
Like what is kindled in brush wood,
But for a moment burns,
Yet in that moment makes a mighty noise.
It crackles and to vapor turns,
And soon itself destroys.

But when crept into aged veins,
It slowly burns and long remains,
And with a sullen heat,
Like fire in logs, it glows and warms 'em long;
And though the flame be not so great,
Yet is the heat as strong.