 | The Poems of St. George Tucker of Williamsburg, Virginia 1752-1827 |  |
37
POEMS AMONG FRIENDS
Written on Miss Cocke's Wedding Day.
Of all the sprightly girls in town,
In sack, or negligee, or gown,
Or plain Virginia frock,
There's none that can a charm impart
To captivate a faithful heart
Like lovely Patsy Cocke.
In sack, or negligee, or gown,
Or plain Virginia frock,
There's none that can a charm impart
To captivate a faithful heart
Like lovely Patsy Cocke.
So graceful is her mien and air,
And then her face is wondrous fair
The man must be a block,
Who's unsubdued by charms like these,
And makes it not his joy to please
The lovely Patsy Cocke.
And then her face is wondrous fair
The man must be a block,
Who's unsubdued by charms like these,
And makes it not his joy to please
The lovely Patsy Cocke.
But hark. She speaks: the youthful train
Attentive listening to the strain,
In crowds around her flock.
So very pungent is your wit
You knock down all you plan to hit
My charming Patsy Cocke.
Attentive listening to the strain,
In crowds around her flock.
So very pungent is your wit
You knock down all you plan to hit
My charming Patsy Cocke.
Would fate to me this fair one grant,
(If I was out of reach of want)
I'd take her in her smock:
Content with what my fortune gave
No other riches would I crave
But thee, my Patsy Cocke.
(If I was out of reach of want)
I'd take her in her smock:
Content with what my fortune gave
No other riches would I crave
But thee, my Patsy Cocke.
The mariner, who, tempest tost,
Beholds his laboring vessel lost
And dashed against a rock,
Never felt such anguish and despair
As I in losing thee, my fair,
My charming Patsy Cocke.
Beholds his laboring vessel lost
And dashed against a rock,
Never felt such anguish and despair
As I in losing thee, my fair,
My charming Patsy Cocke.
Jan. 14, 1775
38
The Belles of Williamsburg
Wilt thou, adventurous pen, describe,
The gay, delightful, silken tribe,
That maddens all our city;
Nor dread, lest while you foolish claim,
A near approach to beauty's flame,
Icarus' fate may hit ye!
The gay, delightful, silken tribe,
That maddens all our city;
Nor dread, lest while you foolish claim,
A near approach to beauty's flame,
Icarus' fate may hit ye!
With singed pinions tumbling down,
The scorn and laughter of the town,
Thou'lt rue thy daring flight,
While every miss, with cool contempt,
Affronted by the bold attempt,
Will tittering, view thy plight.
The scorn and laughter of the town,
Thou'lt rue thy daring flight,
While every miss, with cool contempt,
Affronted by the bold attempt,
Will tittering, view thy plight.
Yet girls, to you devoted ever,
The object still of our endeavor,
Is somehow to amuse ye;
And if, instead of higher praise,
You only laugh at these rude lays,
We'll willing excuse ye.
The object still of our endeavor,
Is somehow to amuse ye;
And if, instead of higher praise,
You only laugh at these rude lays,
We'll willing excuse ye.
Advance then, each illustrious maid,
In order bright, to our parade,
With beauty's ensigns gay!
And first two nymphs who rural plains
Forsook, disdaining rustic swains,
And here exert their sway.
In order bright, to our parade,
With beauty's ensigns gay!
And first two nymphs who rural plains
Forsook, disdaining rustic swains,
And here exert their sway.
Myrtilla's beauties, who can paint!
The well-turned form, the glowing taint,
May deck a common creature;
But who can make the expressive soul,
With lively sense inform the whole,
And light up every feature?
The well-turned form, the glowing taint,
May deck a common creature;
But who can make the expressive soul,
With lively sense inform the whole,
And light up every feature?
39
At church Myrtilla lowly kneels,
No passion but devotion feels,
No smiles her looks environ;
But let her thoughts to pleasure fly.
The basilisk is in her eye,
And on her tongue the siren.
No passion but devotion feels,
No smiles her looks environ;
But let her thoughts to pleasure fly.
The basilisk is in her eye,
And on her tongue the siren.
Fond youth! no longer gaze—beware,
Lest once enclosed, the dangerous fair,
May leave you in the lurch:
The god who poets makes his case,
I supplicate, that I may ne'er
Behold her—but at church.
Lest once enclosed, the dangerous fair,
May leave you in the lurch:
The god who poets makes his case,
I supplicate, that I may ne'er
Behold her—but at church.
More vivid beauty, fresher bloom,
With taints from nature's richest loom,
In Sylvia's features glow:
Would she Myrtilla's arts apply,
And catch the magic of her eye.
She'd rule the world below.
With taints from nature's richest loom,
In Sylvia's features glow:
Would she Myrtilla's arts apply,
And catch the magic of her eye.
She'd rule the world below.
See Laura, sprightly nymph, advance,
Thro' all the mazes of the dance,
With light, fantastic toe!
See laughter sparkling in her eyes!
At her approach new joys arise,
New fires within us glow.
Thro' all the mazes of the dance,
With light, fantastic toe!
See laughter sparkling in her eyes!
At her approach new joys arise,
New fires within us glow.
40
Such sweetness in her look is seen,
Such brilliant elegance of mien,
So jaunty and so airy;
Her image in our fancy reigns,
All night she gallops thru' our brains,
Like little Mab, the fairy.
Such brilliant elegance of mien,
So jaunty and so airy;
Her image in our fancy reigns,
All night she gallops thru' our brains,
Like little Mab, the fairy.
Aspasia next, with kindred soul,
Disdains the passions that control
Each gently pleasing art:
Her sportive wit, her frolic lays,
And graceful form attract our praise,
And steal away the heart.
Disdains the passions that control
Each gently pleasing art:
Her sportive wit, her frolic lays,
And graceful form attract our praise,
And steal away the heart.
We see in gentle Delia's face,
Expressed by every melting grace,
The sweet complacent mind
While hovering round her, soft desires
And hope, gay smiling fan their fires,
Each shepherd thinks her kind.
Expressed by every melting grace,
The sweet complacent mind
While hovering round her, soft desires
And hope, gay smiling fan their fires,
Each shepherd thinks her kind.
The god of love mistook the maid
For his own Psyche, and 'tis said
He still remains her slave:
And when the boy directs her eyes,
To pierce where every passion lies,
Not age itself can save!
For his own Psyche, and 'tis said
He still remains her slave:
And when the boy directs her eyes,
To pierce where every passion lies,
Not age itself can save!
With pensive look, and head reclined,
Sweet emblems of the purest mind,
Lo! where Cordelia sits;
On Dion's image dwells the fair,
Dion, the thunderbolt of war,
The prince of modern wits!
Sweet emblems of the purest mind,
Lo! where Cordelia sits;
On Dion's image dwells the fair,
Dion, the thunderbolt of war,
The prince of modern wits!
Not far removed from her side
Statira sits in beauty's pride,
And rolls about her eyes:
Thrice happy for the unwary heart,
That affection blunts the dart,
Which from her quiver flies.
Statira sits in beauty's pride,
And rolls about her eyes:
Thrice happy for the unwary heart,
That affection blunts the dart,
Which from her quiver flies.
41
Whence does that beam of beauty dawn?
What luster overspreads the lawn?
What suns those rays dispense?
From Artemisia's brow they came;
From Artemisia's eyes the flame;
That dazzles every sense.
What luster overspreads the lawn?
What suns those rays dispense?
From Artemisia's brow they came;
From Artemisia's eyes the flame;
That dazzles every sense.
But who is she, whose massy chain
A motley tribe of youths sustain
And frisk and dance around her?
Like Cerberus they guard the fair,
With triple clamors fill the air,
And with the din confound her.
A motley tribe of youths sustain
And frisk and dance around her?
Like Cerberus they guard the fair,
With triple clamors fill the air,
And with the din confound her.
'Tis Melissandra, matchless fair!
The widowed prey to black despair
By Damon's loss oppressed,
Whom neither fond attempts to gain,
Nor antic gambols in her chain
Can banish from her breast.
The widowed prey to black despair
By Damon's loss oppressed,
Whom neither fond attempts to gain,
Nor antic gambols in her chain
Can banish from her breast.
Thrice happy Damon, that you died,
Where sepulture is ne'er denied,
To any pious swain!
For if, on this side of the Styx,
You wandered still, such curious tricks
Might bring you back again.
Where sepulture is ne'er denied,
To any pious swain!
For if, on this side of the Styx,
You wandered still, such curious tricks
Might bring you back again.
At length fatigued with beauty's blaze
The feeble muse no more essays
Her picture to complete,
The promised charms of younger girls,
When nature the gay scene unfurls,
Some happier bard shall treat.
The feeble muse no more essays
Her picture to complete,
The promised charms of younger girls,
When nature the gay scene unfurls,
Some happier bard shall treat.
1777.
“These two lines were written by a gentleman at that time very much enamored of the lady characterized under the name of Laura, and afterwards married her. Col. Banister”—
Tucker.42
A Dream on Bridecake
[_]
“The following [two] dreams were written at the wedding of Mr. Nelson and Miss Cary, and were produced for the entertainment of the company each morning when they assembled at breakfast: the ceremony of putting bridecake under the head at night having been previously observed by the whole company.”
Dear girls, since you the task impose
Of scribbling rhyme, or humbler prose,
Whene'er the bridecake fills the brain
With emblematic dreams of pain,
Or pleasure to be had hereafter,
Or, whatso'er can move your laughter,
The swain to you devoted ever
Will every try his best endeavor,
To tell you in his doggerel strain,
What fancies visited his brain.
Of scribbling rhyme, or humbler prose,
Whene'er the bridecake fills the brain
With emblematic dreams of pain,
Or pleasure to be had hereafter,
Or, whatso'er can move your laughter,
The swain to you devoted ever
Will every try his best endeavor,
To tell you in his doggerel strain,
What fancies visited his brain.
Brimful of claret wine and perry,
You know I went to bed quite merry,
But, as I soon grew wonderous sick,
I wished my carcass at Old Nick.
At length, I sunk into a nap,
With head reclined in fancy's lap;
She rubbed my temples, chaffed my brain,
And then displayed this scene of pain.
You know I went to bed quite merry,
But, as I soon grew wonderous sick,
I wished my carcass at Old Nick.
At length, I sunk into a nap,
With head reclined in fancy's lap;
She rubbed my temples, chaffed my brain,
And then displayed this scene of pain.
Methought, the claret I'd been drinking
So far from giving aid to thinking,
Had muddled my idea-box,
And clapped my body in the stocks.
Beneath a beach's spreading shade
At lubber's length my limbs were laid;
My tongue alone had power to move,
To rest in vain might wish to rove:
Just then, my Flora passing by
This pretty object chanced to spy;
The wanton saw my hapless case,
And clapped me in a warm embrace;
Her balmy lips to mine she pressed,
And leaned her bosom on my breast,
Her fingers everywhere were gadding,
And set my soul a madding;
Whilst I, in vain, resistance made,
Still on my back supinely laid.
She whispered something in my ear
Which I could not distinctly hear:
Then cried, “Pray when will you be sober?”
“My dear,” said I, “not till October.
“My nerves I find are all unstrung
“Except the one that rules my tongue;
“Their wonted tones so wholly lost
“I shan't recover till a frost.”
Away the wanton baggage flew
Laughing like any one of you
And left me in that sordid plight,
To mourn the follies of the night.
So far from giving aid to thinking,
Had muddled my idea-box,
And clapped my body in the stocks.
Beneath a beach's spreading shade
At lubber's length my limbs were laid;
My tongue alone had power to move,
To rest in vain might wish to rove:
Just then, my Flora passing by
This pretty object chanced to spy;
The wanton saw my hapless case,
And clapped me in a warm embrace;
43
And leaned her bosom on my breast,
Her fingers everywhere were gadding,
And set my soul a madding;
Whilst I, in vain, resistance made,
Still on my back supinely laid.
She whispered something in my ear
Which I could not distinctly hear:
Then cried, “Pray when will you be sober?”
“My dear,” said I, “not till October.
“My nerves I find are all unstrung
“Except the one that rules my tongue;
“Their wonted tones so wholly lost
“I shan't recover till a frost.”
Away the wanton baggage flew
Laughing like any one of you
And left me in that sordid plight,
To mourn the follies of the night.
Sept. 19, 1777
A Second Dream on Bridecake
Well—sure no mortal e'er was cursed
With dreams like mine—for they're the worst
That ever visited a sinner,
E'en after fat turtle dinner,
And six good bottles to defend him
From evils that might else attend him.
With dreams like mine—for they're the worst
That ever visited a sinner,
E'en after fat turtle dinner,
And six good bottles to defend him
From evils that might else attend him.
Methought, I turned a mighty rover
Resolved new countries to discover,
And having travelled all around
The globe, a desert isle I found,
Where witches with their train resort
To amuse themselves with magic sport.
Resolved new countries to discover,
And having travelled all around
The globe, a desert isle I found,
Where witches with their train resort
To amuse themselves with magic sport.
As soon as I set foot on land,
And, in an instant—think how shocking!
Turned me into a white silk stocking,
Then wrapped me up among a dozen
Which she was carrying to a cousin.
Thru' various stores and shops I past,
But got to Williamsburg at last,
Where Flora, to the country gadding
Resolved to buy me for a wedding:
My fate I thought was much improved,
For Flora was the maid I loved;
But, little dreamed of pains in store,
Such as ne'er mortal felt before.
The wedding day at length was come,
The girls retired to a room,
Where first they dizzen out the bride,
That done—they for themselves provide.
My Flora laid me on the bed
Whilst she was dressing out her head;
And little thinking who was near,
She laid her snowy bosom bare,
Then wiped her ivory neck and breast,
And then proceeded with the rest.
44
Turned me into a white silk stocking,
Then wrapped me up among a dozen
Which she was carrying to a cousin.
Thru' various stores and shops I past,
But got to Williamsburg at last,
Where Flora, to the country gadding
Resolved to buy me for a wedding:
My fate I thought was much improved,
For Flora was the maid I loved;
But, little dreamed of pains in store,
Such as ne'er mortal felt before.
The wedding day at length was come,
The girls retired to a room,
Where first they dizzen out the bride,
That done—they for themselves provide.
My Flora laid me on the bed
Whilst she was dressing out her head;
And little thinking who was near,
She laid her snowy bosom bare,
Then wiped her ivory neck and breast,
And then proceeded with the rest.
But now, began the dreadful part,
Which plunged a dagger in my heart;
She thrust her hand into my throat,
And quickly turned me, inside out;
Then raised her pretty little foot,
And finding that my mouth would suit,
She drew me quickly on her heel,
Which made my very vitals feel.
But, here methinks I shall disclose
The beauty of her foot and toes;
Her foot and toes were alabaster
And whiter, far, than Paris plaster;
Of mother-pearl I thought her nails
Or else, the silverfish's scales.
She tried to draw me on her leg,
I stuck, and would compassion beg,
But, as, alas, I could not speak,
She forced me on without a squeak.
Her polished knee I next embraced,
And there I stuck until the last;
For tho' she wished to draw me higher,
Yet, troth, I would not venture nigher.
Then to my grief, and great surprise
She with her garter bound my eyes.
Good heaven, was ever such a case?
Was ever man in such a place?
My Flora tripped about, but where
She went, her stocking still was there;
I still embraced her leg and knee,
But yet no object could I see,
Until she went to bed at night,
When she restored me to my sight;
But then, with wonder and surprise,
Poor I, like Milton, lost my eyes;
And thus to utter darkness hurled,
I wished myself in the other world.
Which plunged a dagger in my heart;
She thrust her hand into my throat,
And quickly turned me, inside out;
Then raised her pretty little foot,
And finding that my mouth would suit,
She drew me quickly on her heel,
Which made my very vitals feel.
But, here methinks I shall disclose
The beauty of her foot and toes;
Her foot and toes were alabaster
And whiter, far, than Paris plaster;
Of mother-pearl I thought her nails
Or else, the silverfish's scales.
She tried to draw me on her leg,
I stuck, and would compassion beg,
But, as, alas, I could not speak,
She forced me on without a squeak.
45
And there I stuck until the last;
For tho' she wished to draw me higher,
Yet, troth, I would not venture nigher.
Then to my grief, and great surprise
She with her garter bound my eyes.
Good heaven, was ever such a case?
Was ever man in such a place?
My Flora tripped about, but where
She went, her stocking still was there;
I still embraced her leg and knee,
But yet no object could I see,
Until she went to bed at night,
When she restored me to my sight;
But then, with wonder and surprise,
Poor I, like Milton, lost my eyes;
And thus to utter darkness hurled,
I wished myself in the other world.
Sept. 20, 1777
46
Christmas Verses for the Printer's Devil, 1784
Now the season for mirth and good eating advances,Plays, oysters and sheldrakes, balls, mince pies and dances;
Fat pullets, fat turkeys, and fat geese to feed on,
Fat mutton and beef; more by half than you've need on;
Fat pigs and fat hogs, fat cooks and fat venison,
Fat aldermen ready the haunch to lay hands on;
Fat wives and fat daughters, fat husbands and sons,
Fat doctors and parsons, fat lawyers and duns:
What a dancing and fiddling, and gobbling and grunting,
As if Nimrod himself had just come in from hunting!
These all are your comforts—while mine are so small,
I may truly be said to have nothing at all.
I'm a Devil you know, and can't live without fire,
From your doors I can see it, but I dare not come nigher;
Now if you refuse me some wood, or some coal,
I must e'en go and warm, in old Beelzebub's hole;
Next, tho' I'm a devil, I drink and I eat,
Therefore stand in need of some rum, wine and meat;
Some clothes too I want—for I'm blacker than soot,
And a hat, and some shoes, for my horns and my foot;
To supply all these wants, pray good people be civil
And give a few pence to a poor printer's devil.
Dec. 25, 1784
48
To Sleep
1
Come gentle Sleep and weigh my eyelids downAnd o'er my senses shed oblivion's balm,
'Tis thine alone corroding care to drown,
'Tis thine alone the troubled soul to calm.
2
'Tis thine t'assuage the cruel stings of grief,And scatter roses o'er a bed of thorns.
From thee alone affliction seeks relief
Even whilst from others that relief she scorns.
3
Thou o'er misfortune throwest thy murky veilAnd from our eyes dost kindly hide the past,
Touched by thy poppies memory too shall fail,
And reason bend, like willows with the blast.
4
Thy dreams past happiness can bring again,And to a dungeon give an Eden's charms;
Pluck from my heart its agonizing pain,
Restore my love—my Fanny to my arms—
5
This bed the scene of all my joys and woesAwakes Remembrance with her busy train,
Where Bliss unrivalled used to court repose,
Unrivalled Sorrow wakes to endless pain.
49
6
Dear partner of my blissful hour and careFriend of my soul, and mistress of my heart
With thee, e'en wretchedness could bliss appear,
Without thee, even blessings yield a smart.
7
Come then O Sleep, on downy pinions comeBy dreams attended, hover 'round my head,
Convey my sorrows to the silent tomb
And raise a sleeping angel from the dead.
Jan. 24, 1788
To Mr. Page on His Marriage
Farewell rhyming; farewell writing
Dodesley, too, a long farewell
Love and Hymen now inviting
P—must break your magic spell.
Dodesley, too, a long farewell
Love and Hymen now inviting
P—must break your magic spell.
Rhyme like Circe's draught bewitching
I was scribbling day and night
Scratching, thus produced by itching
Still increases the delight.
I was scribbling day and night
Scratching, thus produced by itching
Still increases the delight.
Dodesley next my thought engrosses.
Merchants, thus, by fortune blessed
To secure their wealth from losses
Lock it, in an iron chest.
Merchants, thus, by fortune blessed
To secure their wealth from losses
Lock it, in an iron chest.
Love and Hymen now inviting
P—must break the magic spell
Farewell rhyming, farewell writing
Dodesley, too, a long farewell.
P—must break the magic spell
Farewell rhyming, farewell writing
Dodesley, too, a long farewell.
Mar. 1790
50
To Mr. Page On His Marriage to Miss Lowther
Friend of my heart! may this auspicious day
Renew those blessings which you once enjoyed.
Oh! may they ne'er again be snatched away,
Nor e'er thy peace of mind again destroyed.
Renew those blessings which you once enjoyed.
Oh! may they ne'er again be snatched away,
Nor e'er thy peace of mind again destroyed.
May all thy sorrows past be like a dream,
From which the troubled sleeper wakes to bliss;
So shall thy past and future blessings seem
But one protracted scene of happiness.
From which the troubled sleeper wakes to bliss;
So shall thy past and future blessings seem
But one protracted scene of happiness.
Whate'er of earthly, or of heavenly charms
Adorned thy Fanny's form, or face or mind
When bounteous heaven gave her to thy arms;
On! mays't thou in thy Margarita find.
Adorned thy Fanny's form, or face or mind
When bounteous heaven gave her to thy arms;
On! mays't thou in thy Margarita find.
Thus with each charm and grace and virtue stored,
Which heaven propitious to thy Fanny gave,
In her, thy Fanny's self shall be restored
And e'en on earth shall triumph o'er the grave.
Which heaven propitious to thy Fanny gave,
In her, thy Fanny's self shall be restored
And e'en on earth shall triumph o'er the grave.
Mar. 27, 1790
Hymn to the Creator
O God! whose word spake into birth,
Whate'er existence boasts;
The moon, the stars, the sun, the earth,
The heavens, and all their hosts.
Whate'er existence boasts;
The moon, the stars, the sun, the earth,
The heavens, and all their hosts.
From world to world from sun to sun,
I turn my wondering eyes;
Their swiftest glance thy works outrun:
New suns and worlds arise!
I turn my wondering eyes;
Their swiftest glance thy works outrun:
New suns and worlds arise!
51
Thy wonders still my soul pursues
Through each remoter world,
Till sight and thought their aid refuse,
To utter darkness hurled:
Through each remoter world,
Till sight and thought their aid refuse,
To utter darkness hurled:
There lost—through endless time and space
I seek thy light divine:
O grant me Lord! to see Thy face,
But—let Thy mercy shine.
I seek thy light divine:
O grant me Lord! to see Thy face,
But—let Thy mercy shine.
Jan. 13, 1790
Riddles
[1 A pearl in Latin speech shall be my first]
A pearl in Latin speech shall be my first,In grammar rules, my next, a bishop versed.
Judah's first born my third will just supply,
Grant me, kind heaven, the whole, or let me die!
Nov. 7, 1789
[2 My first a mighty kingdom shall portray]
My first a mighty kingdom shall portray,Where freedom, now triumphant, bears the sway.
The line of beauty as by Hogarth found,
Will lengthen and at once complete the sound.
My next in books—nay more in courts you'll find.
The youthful virgin's form, in all combined;
Whence beams the dawning of an angel's mind.
52
3
Charade
My first in sultry climates wafts in airMy next from many you may nicely pair,
Two-fifths of night, with just three-fourths of cold
And that which Sarah gained when she was old,
A beauteous virgin's name will straight unfold.
4
Charade
My first devoutly humble met reproof,In Zion's temple while she stood aloof.
My next to Britain's king a terror grown,
Made many a simple knight of many a drone.
My whole's the picture of my last reversed,
And bears a strong resemblance to my first.
5
To Mrs. Pope
I saw today upon our green,A thing I have not lately seen,
Although it happens night and day
At balls, at concert, and at play.
But that you may the more applaud,
I'll tell it to you in a charade.
My first at Versailles, or St. James is seen,
When the idol of worship's a king or a queen.
My next in all parts of the ocean is found,
Except where ice-regions prescribe it a bound.
My third is of lasses, and lads the delight,
As witness the Capitol, this very night.
Mar. 6, 1817
53
Epigrams
[1 The charge to battle should Bellona sound]
[_]
On July 30, 1791, John Page wrote Tucker, “But now for the epigram I promised in the beginning of the scrawl. It is an impromptu occasioned by Mrs. Page's telling me that Webster in one of his lectures said that the word wound was improperly pronounced woond, unless applied as in the epigram—for after writing one I ran out the thought as you say I always do in a second, a Peter Pindaric. Take them both here they are:
When hostile arms assail, and you cry zounds!The deep infected strokes you may call wounds.
But when by gentle glows a lover swoons,
The critic Webster sounds it woonds.
When Mars attacks
With broadsword hacks,
Each frightful gash that's found
Is called a ghastly wound.
When Cupid's darts
Pierce soft hearts
The holes they make
In maid or rake,
Because these die in swoons
Webster says we may call “woonds.”
Tucker replied with these three epigrams:
The charge to battle should Bellona sound
Each well-aimed stroke inflicts a ghastly wound,
But pierced by Cupid's dart when Streppon swooned,
Cries critic Webster softly—“What a woond!”
Each well-aimed stroke inflicts a ghastly wound,
But pierced by Cupid's dart when Streppon swooned,
Cries critic Webster softly—“What a woond!”
A battle fought—cries critic Webster “Zounds!
What blood and slaughter—what disastrous wounds!”
But pierced by Cupid's dart when Streppon swooned
He whispers softly—“bless me! what a woond!”
What blood and slaughter—what disastrous wounds!”
But pierced by Cupid's dart when Streppon swooned
He whispers softly—“bless me! what a woond!”
54
Noah Webster's Rule of Pronouncing Simplified
When Daphne, jilted at her toilet swooned,No tender heart was sunk with such a wound;
But when she pricked her finger, friends around
Exclaimed with horror; bless us! what a wound!
[2 God's! To Elysium what a passport's here]
[_]
In another undated letter, Page wrote, “Mousr. De la Borde was going on a visit to Ferney; Madam du Barry begged of him to give Voltaire two kisses from her. He sent her in return these four lines:
Quoi! deux baisers sur la fin de ma vie!Quel passeport daigner vous in envoyer!
Ah! c' en est trop, adorable Egerte.
Je serais mort de plaisir au premier.
Only think of these Verses, when he was almost eighty!”
Page then offered two verse translations of his own:
Ah, dear Egeria you have given
One passport sure too much,
One kiss would send me quick to heaven
Of what use then two such?
One passport sure too much,
One kiss would send me quick to heaven
Of what use then two such?
What! two kisses when near my end!
What passport have you deigned to give me!
Ah! too much of it my dear you send
The first with joy would kill, believe me
What passport have you deigned to give me!
Ah! too much of it my dear you send
The first with joy would kill, believe me
Tucker replied with this one:
Two kisses by Egeria given!
The second I shall lose, I fear:
Transported by the first to heaven.
55
[3 A subject to write a farce on]
A subject to write a farce on;All drest so fine! ... to see the parson.
[4 Columbia's flag displays an emblem bright]
Columbia's flag displays an emblem bright,New stripes her lashes mark—new stars her night.
5
On Reading of Tho Heath's Motion in Congress to Prohibit the Printing of the Speeches of the Members
Yes, Johnny, thou art surely rightThe Press's freedom to subdue,
For should they print what you indite
T'would damn the press, as well as you.
6
On Reading a Ridiculous Encomium on General Washington
The fool that should a diamond varnish,Its genuine luster would but tarnish;
So 'tis when fools by flattery aim,
To gild a truly glorious name.
56
[7 Quoth Jed to Tim, where did our John]
Quoth Jed to Tim, where did our John
Such heaps of knowledge gather.
As if in Paradise he'd been,
With Eve—or Satan, rather?
Such heaps of knowledge gather.
As if in Paradise he'd been,
With Eve—or Satan, rather?
Quoth Tim, I guess that famous tree
That once in Eden grew,
Hath been transplanted to our town,
And got a name quite new.
That once in Eden grew,
Hath been transplanted to our town,
And got a name quite new.
For sure as Latin's learned at college
At Braintree John picked up his knowledge.
At Braintree John picked up his knowledge.
8
Impromptu, on Seeing the Name of Wilson Curle Carved in a Corner of the House of Delegates in Williamsburg, Dated 1776
Whilst on this floor some rise to deathless fame,Curle in the corner sits and carves his name.
(Perhaps better thus:)
Here Henry spoke, and rose to deathless fame:
Curle in the corner sat, and carved his name.
9
Written in a County Courthouse
Here Justice sits and holds her scales:But ah! her balance often fails.
57
10
On a Young Lady Vain of the Number of Her Admirers
See beauteous Chloe, followed by a trainOf powdered coxcombs, of their number vain:
If numerous sweethearts constitutes a toast,
Her namesake in the kennel more can boast.
11
Epigram
When Celia dances, 'tis with as much force,As any racer, straining o'er the course!
Her face, at once, all water and all fire;
If this enflames, that quenches all desire.
12
On the Same
Diana's nymphs returning from the chaseIn crystal streams their fervid limbs solace;
But through the dance when lovely Celia flies,
Each friendly pore, a cooling stream supplies.
[13 When lovely Sappho on the guitar plays]
When lovely Sappho on the guitar playsA gentle rill comes trickling thru' her stays,
Till overwhelmed with exercise and heat
She seems a water nymph; dissolved in sweat.
58
To William Nelson Esq., of Charles-City
How great your misfortune, dear Will, I can't well say,In losing our sweet entertainment at Chelsa,
Where Madam Dunbarton had asked us to meet her
And partake of a frolic, I think called sham Peter.
But there was no sham—for we had in reality
The cream of good cheer, with true hospitality.
But first, like old Homer, methinks I should tell
The names of the party that pleased me so well.
Sweet Madam Dunbarton, our hostess, you know,
Whose roses will ever continue to blow;
Who like a ripe peach in the summer, is sweeter,
Than the blossoms of spring, so much praised in meter.
Next Laura the sprightly, so cheerful and gay,
You would swear she was just in the middle of May:
Like Hebe, by time, she no older appears,
For it adds to her charms, as well as her years.
Aunt Betty comes next, who careless, through life
Has past all her days, without being a wife;
And if all her days she could pass o'er again,
I'm persuaded, through choice, she would careless remain.
Our good friends the Doctor and Madam Barraud,
Were both somewhat late in getting abroad.
Our hearts were rejoiced when we saw her appear.
Though rather too late to partake our good cheer.
But as to the Doctor he ate very hearty,
And to tell you the truth was the life of the party.
Fanny Currie, Miss Dawson, Miss Farley and Fan,
With my Godson I--- C--- that pretty young man,
Messieurs W--- and B---, Adonises Twain,
In the eyes of the lasses who dance on the plain,
With Madame, and myself, though last not the least,
In my love and affection attended the feast.
Three chariots, together, in order proceed,
To these on gay horses our gallants succeed;
Whilst the hearts of the lasses did terribly flutter,
'Twixt thinking of them, and Madame's bread and butter.
Arrived, in the orchard a carpet we found,
That was spread to prevent any damps from the ground,
While the fruit on the trees hung in clusters around.
59
When presently entered the butter and bread.
The last like a sponge—the butter so nice,
Like a marigold yellow, was covered with ice.
Apoquimini cakes, with a delicate shad,
Cold ham and broiled chicken, the best to be had,
All seasoned with mirth and good humor unfeigned
So keen were our stomachs as well as our wits
That we dwelt a long while on the savory bits;
Then with sherbert and negus the banquet was crowned
Whilst the toast and the sentiment gaily went 'round.
Till perceiving the approach of the heat of the day,
We reluctantly parted, and all drove away,
And made such a rout, as we entered the town
You would almost have thought that the college fell down.
July 9, 1795
To Miss Fanny Currie
No language, dear Fanny, can tell you the rout
That in sweet little Williamsburg lately fell out,
Occasioned, good luck! by the wonderful news,
Of a cargo of ribbons, and gauzes, and shoes.
Miss C--- who the first the glad tidings received
Out of breath ran to tell, but was scarcely believed
By Mrs. B--- and sweet Nancy Taylor,
Who skipped topmast high, as alert as a sailor;
Away then they posted to get the first sight
Which put Mrs. Charlton in such a sad fright
She slammed to the door of her shop in their faces.
Madam T--- and Dunbar who were taking a ride
The throng at the door no sooner espied,
Than they called out to Robin to stop, and jumped out,
Like rats from their holes, when they're out to the rout.
The bellman at length was sent all through the town,
To proclaim that tomorrow the sight would be shown,
So the ladies all homeward reluctantly sent,
To wait till the night intervening was spent.
Some resolved to rise early, and some to sit up,
And to keep them awake took a cheerupping cup.
Madam T--- went to bed, but her brain was so warm,
She tumbled and tossed like a ship in a storm.
At midnight at length she got up and was dressed,
Ere her drowsy dull husband had turned in his nest.
The morning star rose, but the horns of day,
Were supposed to have strayed: for you could not well see,
When Robin for once more alert than Apollo,
Cried gee-up to his horses, and bade Ned to follow.
The chariot had scarcely arrived at the gate
When Madame cried out she no longer could wait;
Fan, Betsy, and Polly came clattering downstairs,
Rushed out and jumped into the chariot by pairs.
Away then they drove to the eastward to chide
The dull god of day who was still with his bride
Though some have supposed that he had an intrigue
With good Mrs. Ch---n, and both were in league
To wear out the patience of those at the door.
Till at length Mrs. Charlton and Phoebus once more
Op'ed the gates of the morning and eke of the store.
In rushed all the crowd, but to paint you this scene
Would require the pencil of Hogarth I ween,
One snatched up a shoe, and another its fellow.
“What a sweet pretty ribbon! These colors, how mellow!”
“This muslin's so lovely—This feather's quite killing.”
“Pray look at this fan—Two sweet doves a billing.”
“I shall die if I don't get this hat and this feather.”
“Ma'am, I chose them first.”—“No, Ma'am, not so neither;
I fixed my eyes on them the moment I entered.”
“Ma'am, I got in first or I should not have ventured.”
“See this beautiful doll—such eyes and such hair!
She seems to want only one thing, I declare.”
The sun now was up, and Myrtilla was called,
But the jade seemed the deafer the louder I bawled,
“Pray where is your Mistress, and where are my keys?
Go bring me some water to shave if you please;
And bid them make haste with the breakfast d'ye hear,
I'm half dead with waking all night I declare.”
“Sir, Mistress is gone with the keys in her pocket,
In the drawer lie your razors, I cannot unlock it.
The breakfast is ready, and all on the spot
But the coffee and tea, which Mistress forgot.”
So away to Dunbarton I posted in haste,
Resolved of their breakfast to get a small taste.
When instantly up drove man Robin with Ned:
“Ma'am, Mistress has sent—” “Robin what's that you said?
Get my cloak, and my shawl and my clogs; I protest
I can't eat a morsel.” “Indeed, Ma'am, you'd best.”
“No, no my dear Becky—Come, Molly, let's go.”
Aunt Becky and I were thus left all alone
With the coffee, and tea, and a sweet bacon bone;
And you well may believe that we both took a slice,
Of the butter and bread that were equally nice.
That in sweet little Williamsburg lately fell out,
Occasioned, good luck! by the wonderful news,
Of a cargo of ribbons, and gauzes, and shoes.
Miss C--- who the first the glad tidings received
Out of breath ran to tell, but was scarcely believed
By Mrs. B--- and sweet Nancy Taylor,
Who skipped topmast high, as alert as a sailor;
Away then they posted to get the first sight
Which put Mrs. Charlton in such a sad fright
She slammed to the door of her shop in their faces.
Madam T--- and Dunbar who were taking a ride
The throng at the door no sooner espied,
Than they called out to Robin to stop, and jumped out,
Like rats from their holes, when they're out to the rout.
The bellman at length was sent all through the town,
To proclaim that tomorrow the sight would be shown,
So the ladies all homeward reluctantly sent,
To wait till the night intervening was spent.
60
And to keep them awake took a cheerupping cup.
Madam T--- went to bed, but her brain was so warm,
She tumbled and tossed like a ship in a storm.
At midnight at length she got up and was dressed,
Ere her drowsy dull husband had turned in his nest.
The morning star rose, but the horns of day,
Were supposed to have strayed: for you could not well see,
When Robin for once more alert than Apollo,
Cried gee-up to his horses, and bade Ned to follow.
The chariot had scarcely arrived at the gate
When Madame cried out she no longer could wait;
Fan, Betsy, and Polly came clattering downstairs,
Rushed out and jumped into the chariot by pairs.
Away then they drove to the eastward to chide
The dull god of day who was still with his bride
Though some have supposed that he had an intrigue
With good Mrs. Ch---n, and both were in league
To wear out the patience of those at the door.
Till at length Mrs. Charlton and Phoebus once more
Op'ed the gates of the morning and eke of the store.
In rushed all the crowd, but to paint you this scene
Would require the pencil of Hogarth I ween,
One snatched up a shoe, and another its fellow.
“What a sweet pretty ribbon! These colors, how mellow!”
“This muslin's so lovely—This feather's quite killing.”
“Pray look at this fan—Two sweet doves a billing.”
“I shall die if I don't get this hat and this feather.”
“Ma'am, I chose them first.”—“No, Ma'am, not so neither;
I fixed my eyes on them the moment I entered.”
“Ma'am, I got in first or I should not have ventured.”
“See this beautiful doll—such eyes and such hair!
She seems to want only one thing, I declare.”
The sun now was up, and Myrtilla was called,
But the jade seemed the deafer the louder I bawled,
“Pray where is your Mistress, and where are my keys?
Go bring me some water to shave if you please;
And bid them make haste with the breakfast d'ye hear,
I'm half dead with waking all night I declare.”
“Sir, Mistress is gone with the keys in her pocket,
In the drawer lie your razors, I cannot unlock it.
61
But the coffee and tea, which Mistress forgot.”
So away to Dunbarton I posted in haste,
Resolved of their breakfast to get a small taste.
When instantly up drove man Robin with Ned:
“Ma'am, Mistress has sent—” “Robin what's that you said?
Get my cloak, and my shawl and my clogs; I protest
I can't eat a morsel.” “Indeed, Ma'am, you'd best.”
“No, no my dear Becky—Come, Molly, let's go.”
Aunt Becky and I were thus left all alone
With the coffee, and tea, and a sweet bacon bone;
And you well may believe that we both took a slice,
Of the butter and bread that were equally nice.
Now Phoebus had finished one-half of his career,
When slowly we saw the old chariot appear
Not the famed Trojan Horse with the Greeks in his belly,
Proceeded more heavily on let me tell ye.
Band-boxes and bundles were stuffed in the front,
You'd have thought that the seat had nobody upon't;
But wedged in one corner, at length I descried
Sweet Madam Dunbar, and Madam t'other side.
The door then bounced open and poor little Poll,
From under the seat crept with Bet and her doll.
The whole were half-smothered and puffing and blowing.
“My dear husband, I'm starved, I'm dead, I'm agoing.
Some breakfast in pity I pray you bestow,
Indeed, I shall faint if you answer me no.
See this hat, and these shoes, and this feather so nice,
And this beautiful fan—What a charming device!
This sweet little doll with her lovely blue eyes,
Is Madam Dunbar's—I declare 'twould surprise
You to hear all the various remarks that were made
By the ladies upon't—from her toes to her head.
Come Aleck, the coffee—ladies, pray take a seat
How charming this coffee! this butter, how sweet!
O that beautiful doll! That hat and that feather!
See there now come Fanny and Molly together.
O there is Mrs. Banister just going home;
She promised to dine here; I hope she won't come.
Let me die if I know what to have for our dinner
Phill, pray look about you and get us some fish,
I protest I don't know what to do for a dish.
Five guineas, my husband, see here is the bill,
Is all I have spent. You must, and you will
I am sure find the money to pay off this score;
'Tis the devil you know to be, and seem poor.”
When slowly we saw the old chariot appear
Not the famed Trojan Horse with the Greeks in his belly,
Proceeded more heavily on let me tell ye.
Band-boxes and bundles were stuffed in the front,
You'd have thought that the seat had nobody upon't;
But wedged in one corner, at length I descried
Sweet Madam Dunbar, and Madam t'other side.
The door then bounced open and poor little Poll,
From under the seat crept with Bet and her doll.
The whole were half-smothered and puffing and blowing.
“My dear husband, I'm starved, I'm dead, I'm agoing.
Some breakfast in pity I pray you bestow,
Indeed, I shall faint if you answer me no.
See this hat, and these shoes, and this feather so nice,
And this beautiful fan—What a charming device!
This sweet little doll with her lovely blue eyes,
Is Madam Dunbar's—I declare 'twould surprise
You to hear all the various remarks that were made
By the ladies upon't—from her toes to her head.
Come Aleck, the coffee—ladies, pray take a seat
How charming this coffee! this butter, how sweet!
O that beautiful doll! That hat and that feather!
See there now come Fanny and Molly together.
O there is Mrs. Banister just going home;
She promised to dine here; I hope she won't come.
62
Phill, pray look about you and get us some fish,
I protest I don't know what to do for a dish.
Five guineas, my husband, see here is the bill,
Is all I have spent. You must, and you will
I am sure find the money to pay off this score;
'Tis the devil you know to be, and seem poor.”
So you see, my dear Fanny, how things here have passed,
The husband poor soul, pays the piper at last.
The husband poor soul, pays the piper at last.
Mar. 27, 1796
To Cynthia
When Cynthia's crescent I behold
A luster shedding 'round her brow,
I'm half convinced when I am told,
That Art can vie with Nature, now.
A luster shedding 'round her brow,
I'm half convinced when I am told,
That Art can vie with Nature, now.
But when her beauteous eyes I view,
That sparkle with a ray divine,
I feel the ancient maxim's true,
That Art cannot, like Nature, shine.
That sparkle with a ray divine,
I feel the ancient maxim's true,
That Art cannot, like Nature, shine.
O! Were I suffered to descry
Those other orbs that swell below,
Where fancy sets before my eye,
Two rosebuds, peeping through the snow;
Transported at the sight, I'd swear,
Art ne'er can rival Nature, there.
Those other orbs that swell below,
Where fancy sets before my eye,
Two rosebuds, peeping through the snow;
Transported at the sight, I'd swear,
Art ne'er can rival Nature, there.
Then Cynthia, deign to smile upon
And make me, thy Endymion.
And make me, thy Endymion.
Mar. 10, 1799
63
Resignation
Days of my youth! Ye have glided away;
Locks of my youth! Ye are frosted and gray;
Eyes of my youth! Your keen sight is no more;
Cheeks of my youth! Ye are furrowed all o'er;
Strength of my youth! All your vigor is gone;
Thoughts of my youth! Your gay visions are flown!
Locks of my youth! Ye are frosted and gray;
Eyes of my youth! Your keen sight is no more;
Cheeks of my youth! Ye are furrowed all o'er;
Strength of my youth! All your vigor is gone;
Thoughts of my youth! Your gay visions are flown!
Days of my youth, I wish not your recall;
Locks of my youth, I'm content ye shall fall;
Eyes of my youth, ye much evil have seen;
Cheeks of my youth, bathed in tears have ye been;
Thoughts of my youth, ye have led me astray;
Strength of my youth; why lament your decay!
Locks of my youth, I'm content ye shall fall;
Eyes of my youth, ye much evil have seen;
Cheeks of my youth, bathed in tears have ye been;
Thoughts of my youth, ye have led me astray;
Strength of my youth; why lament your decay!
Days of my age! Ye will shortly be past;
Pains of my age, but a while can ye last;
Joys of my age, in true wisdom delight;
Eyes of my age, be religion your light;
Thoughts of my age, dread ye not the cold sod;
Hopes of my age, be ye fixed on your God!
Pains of my age, but a while can ye last;
Joys of my age, in true wisdom delight;
Eyes of my age, be religion your light;
Thoughts of my age, dread ye not the cold sod;
Hopes of my age, be ye fixed on your God!
Mar. 21, 1807
64
Burletta
“Composed partly between sleeping and waking in the morning; June 10th, 1807.”
With lungs loud as Stentor's,
I'll sing my tormentors,
More frightful than centaurs;
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors;
And him that adventures
To slay my tormentors,
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors,
To slay my tormentors
To slay my tormentors.
I'll sing my tormentors,
More frightful than centaurs;
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors;
And him that adventures
To slay my tormentors,
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors,
To slay my tormentors
To slay my tormentors.
See they rush to to my bed:
How they fill me with dread!
Hovering over my head,
Like the ghosts of the dead,
Which a charnel o'erspread!
Like the ghosts of the dead,
Which a charnel o'erspread!
Which a charnel o'erspread
Which a charnel o'erspread.
How they fill me with dread!
Hovering over my head,
Like the ghosts of the dead,
Which a charnel o'erspread!
Like the ghosts of the dead,
Which a charnel o'erspread!
Which a charnel o'erspread
Which a charnel o'erspread.
Chorus
With lungs loud as Stentor'sI'll sing my tormentors,
More frightful than centaurs;
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors;
And him that adventures
To slay my tormentors,
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors
To slay my tormentors.
65
See their hosts how they rise!
How they darken the skies!
Oh! they put out my eyes!
Ah! pity my cries!
A plague on these flies!
Ah! pity my cries!
A plague on these flies!
Ah pity my cries!
A curse on these flies!
A curse on these flies!
A curse on these flies!
How they darken the skies!
Oh! they put out my eyes!
Ah! pity my cries!
A plague on these flies!
Ah! pity my cries!
A plague on these flies!
Ah pity my cries!
A curse on these flies!
A curse on these flies!
A curse on these flies!
Chorus
With lungs loud as Stentor'sI'll sing my tormentor's
More frightful than centaurs;
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors,
And him that adventures
To slay my tormentors
And him that adventures,
To slay my tormentors
To slay my tormentors
To slay my tormentors.
Song
Tune—A cobbler there was, etc.
I envy no man for his purse, or his wife,
Or his horses, or coach, or his station in life;
With a little content, independence I prize,
And he that seeks more, is more greedy than wise,
Derry down, etc.
Or his horses, or coach, or his station in life;
With a little content, independence I prize,
And he that seeks more, is more greedy than wise,
Derry down, etc.
66
I care not a farthing for term, or vacation;
Or the meeting of Congress to settle the nation;
Or assemblies that talk of divorces and banks,
Pass censures on some, and to others give thanks,
Derry down, etc.
Or the meeting of Congress to settle the nation;
Or assemblies that talk of divorces and banks,
Pass censures on some, and to others give thanks,
Derry down, etc.
What care I, whether Jackson's a general or judge?
Whether Peter or Dabney the circuit shall trudge?
Whether substitutes offered by Mercer or Leigh,
The majority gain is no matter to me.
Derry down, etc.
Whether Peter or Dabney the circuit shall trudge?
Whether substitutes offered by Mercer or Leigh,
The majority gain is no matter to me.
Derry down, etc.
Still less do I care, whether Caesar, or Kate,
Who their freedom have bought, shall remain in the state.
If a street be too wide, or a lane be too close,
Or three pence be given for killing of crows,
Derry down, etc.
Who their freedom have bought, shall remain in the state.
If a street be too wide, or a lane be too close,
Or three pence be given for killing of crows,
Derry down, etc.
Speculators, and smugglers, and gamesters and racers,
Now mounted in garrets, now mounted on pacers!
Let who will win the race! whether Blacky or Roan,
Break his rider's neck first, and then break his own.
Derry down, etc.
Now mounted in garrets, now mounted on pacers!
Let who will win the race! whether Blacky or Roan,
Break his rider's neck first, and then break his own.
Derry down, etc.
As for demagogues, Federalists, aristocrats,
Now roaring like lions, now purring like cats,
Catterwalling, and scratching, or watching a mouse,
I regard them no more than a flea, or a louse.
Derry down, etc.
Now roaring like lions, now purring like cats,
Catterwalling, and scratching, or watching a mouse,
I regard them no more than a flea, or a louse.
Derry down, etc.
For the maniac George, and the tyrant of France,
I would they were thrown in a thousand-year's trance;
When waking, well purged of their infamous crimes,
They may turn harmless poets, like me, and make rhymes.
Derry down, etc.
I would they were thrown in a thousand-year's trance;
When waking, well purged of their infamous crimes,
They may turn harmless poets, like me, and make rhymes.
Derry down, etc.
Feb. 1812
67
To Mrs. Page
When a tyrant complains
Of a forger of chains
What mortal believes him sincere!
Since we know 'tis his trade
To make others afraid,
And chains to impose—not to wear.
Of a forger of chains
What mortal believes him sincere!
Since we know 'tis his trade
To make others afraid,
And chains to impose—not to wear.
When a master of arts
To his pupil imparts
A science he thoroughly knows;
How grateful the youth
To the teacher of truth,
For what he so kindly bestows?
To his pupil imparts
A science he thoroughly knows;
How grateful the youth
To the teacher of truth,
For what he so kindly bestows?
In you Madam Page,
The tyrant and sage,
As in Pericles, seem to unite.
'Gainst chains while you preach
Your fair pupil to teach,
That art, in which all must delight.
The tyrant and sage,
As in Pericles, seem to unite.
'Gainst chains while you preach
Your fair pupil to teach,
That art, in which all must delight.
Dec. 10, 1812
68
The Sick Man's Return for a Kiss
The grateful heart that can't repay
The favors it has prized,
Shall find acceptance in that day
When hearts are undisguised—
The favors it has prized,
Shall find acceptance in that day
When hearts are undisguised—
The widow's mite acceptance found
Where talents were disdained,
The will, and not the offering, crowned
The preference it gained—
Where talents were disdained,
The will, and not the offering, crowned
The preference it gained—
While some good folks about us live,
I'm beggared by your kiss,
Accept then all I now can give,
A lovely peach—and This—
I'm beggared by your kiss,
Accept then all I now can give,
A lovely peach—and This—
[Mrs. Page:
Poor feverish soul! You are vastly demure
God grant you a speedy and radical cure
Your return for my kiss I greatly admire
And take the will for the deed as the case doth require.]
God grant you a speedy and radical cure
Your return for my kiss I greatly admire
And take the will for the deed as the case doth require.]
A Fable
I dreamed last night, the debt of nature paid,I, cheek by jowl, was by a Negro laid;
Provoked at such a neighborhood, I cried,
“Rascal! begone. Rot farther from my side.”
“Rascal!” said he, with arrogance extreme,
“Thou are the only rascal here, I deem;
Know fallen tyrant, I'm no more thy slave!
Quaco's a monarch's equal, in the grave.”
Dec. 25, 1812
“In imitation of one in Bougier's French grammar, by La Fontaine, as well as I recollect: Je songais cette nuit, que d'envie consumé / Cote a cotes d'un pauvre on m'avait enhumé”—
Tucker.69
The Reflections of a Man in His Grand Climacteric
'Tis a folly for Age to repine at the loss
Of the things which it ne'er can again come across;
Agility, strength, youth, and health, are all gone,
And with them the spirits that moved them are flown.
Of the things which it ne'er can again come across;
Agility, strength, youth, and health, are all gone,
And with them the spirits that moved them are flown.
Sad Remembrance must now the enjoyment supply
Of the pleasures that sparkled in Passion's bright eye,
When Youth held the torch, and Hope pointed to bliss,
To be found in a bumper, the dance, or a kiss.
Of the pleasures that sparkled in Passion's bright eye,
When Youth held the torch, and Hope pointed to bliss,
To be found in a bumper, the dance, or a kiss.
The delusion is past, and diseases and pain
Of vain promised pleasures usurp the domain;
Dull Patience alone can a plaster apply,
Their pangs to assuage till the time comes to die.
Of vain promised pleasures usurp the domain;
Dull Patience alone can a plaster apply,
Their pangs to assuage till the time comes to die.
That time now approaches,—and Death wields her dart,
And the victim beholds it, well aimed at his heart;
What now shall support him? A life that's well past!
For a conscience that's sound, is a shield to the last.
And the victim beholds it, well aimed at his heart;
What now shall support him? A life that's well past!
For a conscience that's sound, is a shield to the last.
Then, shall Hope not desert him: that friend of his youth
Shall in age be his nurse, and the teacher of truth:
As she bends o'er his pillow bright visions shall rise,
Whilst to life everlasting she points in the skies.
Shall in age be his nurse, and the teacher of truth:
As she bends o'er his pillow bright visions shall rise,
Whilst to life everlasting she points in the skies.
Aug. 19, 1813. Aet. 62
70
Lines, Supposed to Have Been Found Upon the Palace Green at Williamsburg On May Day, 1816
O! what a pleasure's in the town,
To the world, how little known!
Pleasures, which there is no telling:
Pleasures, which there is no knowing!
When the belles are off, a-beau-ing,
And the beaus are off a-belle-ing.
To the world, how little known!
Pleasures, which there is no telling:
Pleasures, which there is no knowing!
When the belles are off, a-beau-ing,
And the beaus are off a-belle-ing.
O! the sweet, bewitching scene,
Palace grounds, or college green,
When the beaus, and belles, assembling;
Beaus, their secret thoughts confiding;
Belles, their smiles, and blushes hiding,
Frowns, and careless looks dissembling.
Palace grounds, or college green,
When the beaus, and belles, assembling;
Beaus, their secret thoughts confiding;
Belles, their smiles, and blushes hiding,
Frowns, and careless looks dissembling.
O! the dear enchanting sight,
When at parties, just at night,
Beaus, and belles, in pairs advancing;
Beaus their willing partners handing,
Beaus and belles on tiptoe standing,
Music striking, all a-dancing!
When at parties, just at night,
Beaus, and belles, in pairs advancing;
Beaus their willing partners handing,
Beaus and belles on tiptoe standing,
Music striking, all a-dancing!
O! how charming in the church!
Beaus and belles in gallery perch;
As to hear a reverend preacher:
Beaus and belles their eyes a-keeping
Beaus through veils, and fans, a-peeping;
Little love the only teacher!
Beaus and belles in gallery perch;
As to hear a reverend preacher:
Beaus and belles their eyes a-keeping
Beaus through veils, and fans, a-peeping;
Little love the only teacher!
May, 1816
71
Occasioned by Some Remarks on the Word “Prancing,” in the Preceding by Three Scrupulous Ladies
Three prudes, a poet's work perusing,Begun, at once, his rhymes abusing:
“Sure, 'tis enough, for girls to dance!
But here, this poet makes them prance;
Like actresses, arrived from France!”
“Deliver us from such wretched stuff;
Sir, write no more:—we've read enough.”
The poet hangs his head awhile,
Looks up, then answers with a smile:
“Ladies! your criticism's just:
I'll change the phrase: I will: I must!
For who, that ever had a glance
At your bright eyes, ere saw them prance!
Though even now, I see them dance.”
A smile, at once, lights up their faces,
And now, the prudes are changed to graces.
May, 1816
Bacchanalian
I have heard from my youth,
That in wine there is truth:
And let him who the maxim disputes
Just put by his glass,
And go feed upon grass,
And drink puddle water with brutes.
That in wine there is truth:
And let him who the maxim disputes
Just put by his glass,
And go feed upon grass,
And drink puddle water with brutes.
Wine renders the sage
Blithe as youth, just of age,
And as wise as the sage makes the youth,
Whilst together they reel,
And in unison feel,
That wine is the essence of truth.
Blithe as youth, just of age,
And as wise as the sage makes the youth,
Whilst together they reel,
And in unison feel,
That wine is the essence of truth.
72
'Twas by nectar the gods
Held o'er mortals their rods,
Much more than the thunder of Jove;
'Twas Falernian wine
Did fair Venus enshrine,
And proclaim her the goddess of love.
Held o'er mortals their rods,
Much more than the thunder of Jove;
'Twas Falernian wine
Did fair Venus enshrine,
And proclaim her the goddess of love.
With imperial tokay,
An empire I'd sway,
Far better than Caesar, or Bony;
And with sweet jack, and sherry,
Like Falstaff make merry,
And Pegasus mount like a pony.
An empire I'd sway,
Far better than Caesar, or Bony;
And with sweet jack, and sherry,
Like Falstaff make merry,
And Pegasus mount like a pony.
Wine shows in the glass,
All the charms of the lass
That the love-smitten shepherd adores;
And each drop that he sips,
Like the dew on her lips,
In his heart a new ecstasy pours.
All the charms of the lass
That the love-smitten shepherd adores;
And each drop that he sips,
Like the dew on her lips,
In his heart a new ecstasy pours.
In the sparkling champagne
He encounters again
The sparkles that beam from her eyes;
Like her breath the old hock,
From the true convent stock,
An ambrosial odor supplies.
He encounters again
The sparkles that beam from her eyes;
Like her breath the old hock,
From the true convent stock,
An ambrosial odor supplies.
In Madeira he'll find
The attractions that bind
His heart, to the heart of the fair;
And in Burgundy trace
The sweet blush of her face,
When his passion she heard him declare.
The attractions that bind
His heart, to the heart of the fair;
And in Burgundy trace
The sweet blush of her face,
When his passion she heard him declare.
A bumper then fill,
But a drop do not spill,
To the lass that each heart can beguile;
Who, like wine, inspires,
Gay hope, love, and fires,
And banishes care with a smile.
But a drop do not spill,
To the lass that each heart can beguile;
Who, like wine, inspires,
Gay hope, love, and fires,
And banishes care with a smile.
Apr. 1, 1817
73
Be Merry and Wise
Of all the enjoyments on earth that we prize
Be mine the choice gift, to be merry, and wise;
Mirth enlivens the heart, and the blood in each vein,
'Tis the province of wisdom excess can restrain.
Be mine the choice gift, to be merry, and wise;
Mirth enlivens the heart, and the blood in each vein,
'Tis the province of wisdom excess can restrain.
Mirth delights in the bottle, and smiles on the glass,
And invites to the arms of the love-breathing lass:
While wisdom, with caution a bumper declines,
And love with the chaplet of Hymen entwines.
And invites to the arms of the love-breathing lass:
While wisdom, with caution a bumper declines,
And love with the chaplet of Hymen entwines.
Mirth and wisdom united will drive away care,
And an antidote prove to remorse and despair;
Then, of all the enjoyments on earth that we prize,
Be mine the choice gift to be merry and wise.
And an antidote prove to remorse and despair;
Then, of all the enjoyments on earth that we prize,
Be mine the choice gift to be merry and wise.
June 8, 1817
Anacreontic
Come fill your glass! to Chloe's eyes,
This bumper is addressed;
Another to her lips we'll fill
And two more, to her breast.
This bumper is addressed;
Another to her lips we'll fill
And two more, to her breast.
Two more we'll fill up to her heart:
They're not enough! two more!!
And if she has a sweeter part,
To that, we'll fill a score!
They're not enough! two more!!
And if she has a sweeter part,
To that, we'll fill a score!
74
On Mrs. Lucy Nelson (the General's Widow) Attending the Communion Table at Church on a very Cold Day
Though cold the day, yon aged breast
Is warm with pious zeal:
Though blind those eyes, religion's light
The Christian still can feel.
Is warm with pious zeal:
Though blind those eyes, religion's light
The Christian still can feel.
A life in virtuous actions spent,
Its sacred influence shows;
And pious hopes with age increase,
Like wheat beneath the snows.
Its sacred influence shows;
And pious hopes with age increase,
Like wheat beneath the snows.
Nor doubt it will, in God's good time,
A heavenly harvest yield,
Abundant, as the fruits of Nile,
To Pharoah's dreams revealed.
A heavenly harvest yield,
Abundant, as the fruits of Nile,
To Pharoah's dreams revealed.
Jan. 4, 1818
Woman
Woman parent of mankind
Tender nurse of infant years,
Comfort of the sick and blind,
Soother of all human cares.
Tender nurse of infant years,
Comfort of the sick and blind,
Soother of all human cares.
Object dear of infant love
Magnet of the youthful heart,
Every passion born to move,
Every blessing to impart.
Magnet of the youthful heart,
Every passion born to move,
Every blessing to impart.
Consort sweet of riper years,
Idol of the manly breast,
Age's guide through vales of tears,
To the mansions of the blessed.
Idol of the manly breast,
Age's guide through vales of tears,
To the mansions of the blessed.
75
Be thou still, as from the first,
Joy and comfort of my heart,
And when death thy bands shall burst
May we meet, no more to part.
Joy and comfort of my heart,
And when death thy bands shall burst
May we meet, no more to part.
Sept. 11, 1819
Written on Christmas Day, 1820
All hail, auspicious day!
When gracious Christ was born;
To point to heaven the way,
And comfort the forlorn:
When gracious Christ was born;
To point to heaven the way,
And comfort the forlorn:
To teach frail man to serve,
And love his God, above;
Nor from that path to swerve:
His neighbors, next, to love:
And love his God, above;
Nor from that path to swerve:
His neighbors, next, to love:
The wretched to relieve,
The humble to exalt,
To comfort those that grieve,
And to forgive each fault:
The humble to exalt,
To comfort those that grieve,
And to forgive each fault:
The orphan child to breed,
To clothe the naked poor,
The hungry wretch to feed,
Nor, drive him from the door:
To clothe the naked poor,
The hungry wretch to feed,
Nor, drive him from the door:
In all his dealings just;
His labors for the best:
In God to put his trust;
And leave to Him the rest.
His labors for the best:
In God to put his trust;
And leave to Him the rest.
Dec. 25, 1820
| The Poems of St. George Tucker of Williamsburg, Virginia 1752-1827 | |