The Poems of Charles Sackville Sixth Earl of Dorset: Edited by Brice Harris |
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VII. Translation and Paraphrase
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 | The Poems of Charles Sackville |  |
169
VII. Translation and Paraphrase
171
Madam Maintenon's Advice to the French King. Paraphrase on the French
173
In gray-hair'd Celia's wither'd arms
As mighty Lewis lay,
She cry'd, “If I have any charms,
My dearest, let's away.
As mighty Lewis lay,
She cry'd, “If I have any charms,
My dearest, let's away.
“For you, my love, is all my fear;
Hark! how the drums do rattle!
Alas, Sir, what shou'd you do here
In dreadful day of battle?
Hark! how the drums do rattle!
174
In dreadful day of battle?
“Let little Orange stay and fight,
For danger's his diversion;
The wise will think you in the right,
Not to expose your person.
For danger's his diversion;
The wise will think you in the right,
Not to expose your person.
“Nor vex your thoughts how to repair
The ruins of your glory:
You ought to leave so mean a care
To those who pen your story.
The ruins of your glory:
You ought to leave so mean a care
To those who pen your story.
“Are not Boileau and Corneille paid
For panegyric writing?
They know how heroes may be made
Without the help of fighting.
For panegyric writing?
They know how heroes may be made
Without the help of fighting.
“When foes too saucily approach,
'Tis best to leave them fairly:
Put six good horses to your coach
And carry me to Marly.
'Tis best to leave them fairly:
Put six good horses to your coach
And carry me to Marly.
“Let Boufflers, to secure your fame,
Go take some town, or buy it,
Whilst you, great Sir, at Notre Dame
Te Deum sing in quiet.”
Go take some town, or buy it,
Whilst you, great Sir, at Notre Dame
Te Deum sing in quiet.”
176
The Innocent Conjugates or The Maiden Bridegroom and Virgin Bride
Inflam'd by love and led by blind desires,The man pursues, the bashful maid retires.
He hopes for pleasure, but she fears the pain;
His love but ignorance is, her fears more vain:
Whene'er he tastes those joys so priz'd before,
He'll love no longer, and she'll fear no more.
177
A Rodomontade on his Cruel Mistress
178
Than all ingredients cramm'd into a curse;
Were she but ugly, peevish, proud, a whore,
Perjur'd or painted, so she where no more,
I could forgive her and connive at this,
Adjudging still she but a woman is.
But she is worse and may in time forestall
The devil and be the damning of us all.
| The Poems of Charles Sackville | |