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University of Virginia Library

Occasional Poems

Translations, Fables, Tales, &c. By William Somervile

Somerville, William (1675-1742)

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AN ODE, Humbly Inscrib'd to his Grace The Duke of Marlborough,

An ODE, Occasion'd by the Duke of Marlborough's Imbarking for Ostend, An. 1712.

To Mr. Addison,

An Imitation of the Ninth Ode of the Fourth Book of Horace.

To Doctor Mackenzie.

In Memory of my Dear Friend, The late Reverend Mr. Moore.

Presenting to a Lady a White Rose and a Red, on the Tenth of June.

The Bowling-Green.

The Lamentation of David over Saul and Jonathan.

To a young Lady, with the Iliad of Homer translated.

Hudibras and Milton reconciled.

Upon Miranda's leaving the Country.

To the Right Honourable the Earl of HALIFAX,

A Song for the Lute.

The Superannuated Lover.

Advice to the Ladies.

To a Discarded Toast.

The Perjured Mistress.

To a young Lady, who spent the Night in Tears, upon a Report that her Brother was to fight a Duel the next Morning.

To Doctor M--- reading Mathematicks.

From Martial. Epig. 47.

To a Gentleman, who married his Cast Mistress.

A Dainty New BALLAD:

Canidia's Epithalamium.

A Translation of the Tenth Epistle in Horace.

The Miser's Speech:

The Devil Outwitted:

The Officious Messenger:

The Inquisitive Bridegroom:

Bacchus Triumphant:

The Night-Walker Reclaim'd.

The Happy Disappointment:

A Padlock for the Mouth:

The Wise Builder.

The True Use of the Looking-Glass:

Mahomet Ali Beg: or, The Faithful Minister of State.

The Sweet-scented Miser.

The Incurious Bencher.

The Busy Indolent:

The Yeoman of Kent:

The Happy Lunatick:

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115

Advice to the Ladies.

1

Who now regards Chloris, her Tears, and her Whining,
Her Sighs, and fond Wishes, and aukward Repining?
What a pother is here, with her am'rous Glances,
Soft Fragments of Ovid, and Scraps of Romances?

2

A nice Prude at fifteen! and a Romp in decay!
Cold December affects the sweet Blossoms of May;
To fawn in her Dotage, and in her Bloom spurn us,
Is to quench Love's Torch, and with Touchwood to burn us.

116

3

Believe me (dear Maids) there's no way of evading,
While ye pish, and cry nay, your Roses are fading:
Tho' your Passion survive, your Beauty will dwindle,
And our dying Embers can never rekindle.

4

When bright in your Zeniths we prostrate before ye,
When ye set in a Cloud, what Fool will adore ye?
Then ye Fair be advis'd, and snatch the kind Blessing,
And shew your good Conduct by timely Possessing.