The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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VERSES, Sent, with a little Book of Manuscript Poems, To Miss ELIZA G---N. |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
VERSES, Sent, with a little Book of Manuscript Poems, To Miss ELIZA G---N.
By Promise bound, by Pleasure, too,
To fill this little Book for you,
What Present shall the Poet send,
(Indulge him with the Name of Friend)
Whose utmost Wish is to supply
A Present worthy of your Eye?
To fill this little Book for you,
What Present shall the Poet send,
(Indulge him with the Name of Friend)
Whose utmost Wish is to supply
A Present worthy of your Eye?
Poets, you oft have heard it said,
Are mostly Flatterers by their Trade;
The Mistress of each Son of Rhyme,
From Waller's, to the present Time,
Has, most invariably, possess'd
Each Virtue of the human Breast;
And every Charm, the Tongue can name,
Is sure to revel in her Frame:
Forth, then, he sends the wondrous Girl,
With Lips of Coral, Teeth of Pearl;
The honey'd Accents of her Tongue,
Sweeter than Songs, by Syrens sung;
Her Mouth, hedg'd round with Smiles and Graces,
Which all preserve their settled Places:
Lilies, her Neck; her Cheek discloses
A richer Bloom than Summer Roses:
And, if a Dimple should appear,
A Swarm of Loves must ambush there:
Her Eyes are Fire; his Heart, quite Tinder,
Burning before it, like a Cinder:
Yet, strange to tell! those Lightnings fierce,
That flash so briskly in his Verse,
Have ne'er sufficient Strength possess'd,
To thaw the Snows upon her Breast:
Obedient to the Verse-man's Will,
Paris descends from Ida's Hill,
And gives to her the golden Apple,
While Goddesses around him grapple:
The Deities of Rome and Greece,
(To make the Business of a Piece)
Lest aught her Beauties should surprize,
Forsake their Stations in the Skies;
In her sweet Looks (as sure as Day)
Young Innocence comes down to play;
Discretion at her Lip stands Sentry;
Bright Honour guards her Bosom's Entry;
Lest Wiles should 'snare, or Force alarm her,
Sage Prudence brings a Suit of Armour;
Firm Wisdom spreads a Shield before her;
And, all Creation must adore her:—
Such are th'enamour'd Poet's Lays;
And such the Tenour of his Praise.
Are mostly Flatterers by their Trade;
The Mistress of each Son of Rhyme,
From Waller's, to the present Time,
Has, most invariably, possess'd
Each Virtue of the human Breast;
And every Charm, the Tongue can name,
Is sure to revel in her Frame:
89
With Lips of Coral, Teeth of Pearl;
The honey'd Accents of her Tongue,
Sweeter than Songs, by Syrens sung;
Her Mouth, hedg'd round with Smiles and Graces,
Which all preserve their settled Places:
Lilies, her Neck; her Cheek discloses
A richer Bloom than Summer Roses:
And, if a Dimple should appear,
A Swarm of Loves must ambush there:
Her Eyes are Fire; his Heart, quite Tinder,
Burning before it, like a Cinder:
Yet, strange to tell! those Lightnings fierce,
That flash so briskly in his Verse,
Have ne'er sufficient Strength possess'd,
To thaw the Snows upon her Breast:
Obedient to the Verse-man's Will,
Paris descends from Ida's Hill,
And gives to her the golden Apple,
While Goddesses around him grapple:
The Deities of Rome and Greece,
(To make the Business of a Piece)
Lest aught her Beauties should surprize,
Forsake their Stations in the Skies;
In her sweet Looks (as sure as Day)
Young Innocence comes down to play;
Discretion at her Lip stands Sentry;
Bright Honour guards her Bosom's Entry;
Lest Wiles should 'snare, or Force alarm her,
Sage Prudence brings a Suit of Armour;
Firm Wisdom spreads a Shield before her;
And, all Creation must adore her:—
Such are th'enamour'd Poet's Lays;
And such the Tenour of his Praise.
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Should he, who now attempts to sing,
Such Praise as this to Bessy bring,
When C---n, and an hundred more,
Have said the very same before,
'Twould want—alas! how vain to send it!—
Even Novelty, to recommend it:
Such Praise as this to Bessy bring,
When C---n, and an hundred more,
Have said the very same before,
'Twould want—alas! how vain to send it!—
Even Novelty, to recommend it:
But, waving this, he boasts, beside,
(Be this one Poet's honest Pride)
Such hackney'd Praise he disapproves;
And will not flatter what he loves.
(Be this one Poet's honest Pride)
Such hackney'd Praise he disapproves;
And will not flatter what he loves.
“Hold”—(cries young Witling, with a Sneer)
“You're wrong; quite wrong, indeed, my Dear:
“Absurd!—Why, sure, you cannot mean,
“'Tis possible to flatter G---n.”—
Not contradicting what you say,
Kind Monitor, I'll have my Way;
Nor bring, with vain, and idle Views,
An Incense Reason must refuse.
“You're wrong; quite wrong, indeed, my Dear:
“Absurd!—Why, sure, you cannot mean,
“'Tis possible to flatter G---n.”—
Not contradicting what you say,
Kind Monitor, I'll have my Way;
Nor bring, with vain, and idle Views,
An Incense Reason must refuse.
'Tis true, indeed, her Mind displays
An ample Field of fairest Praise:
His Skill, if there the Bard should try,
Language could never soar too high.—
Yet, even from this, the Muse retires;
Nor madly to the Task aspires;
More wise she deems it, to conceal
What would her Lack of Skill reveal;
And, like the Painter, thinks it best,
To hide—what cannot be express'd.
An ample Field of fairest Praise:
His Skill, if there the Bard should try,
Language could never soar too high.—
Yet, even from this, the Muse retires;
Nor madly to the Task aspires;
More wise she deems it, to conceal
What would her Lack of Skill reveal;
And, like the Painter, thinks it best,
To hide—what cannot be express'd.
| The Shamrock | |