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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson

Stevenson, Matthew (fl. 1654-1685)

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To the Accomplish'd, and his Ingenious Friend, Mr. Matthew Stevenson, On His Facetious Poems.

To the fair Madam M. H. at Sharington-Hall in Norfolk.

To my Lord B.

To the Boy that brought up the Bottles of bad Wine.

Upon Madam A. C. a fair Lady that dyed of the Small-Pox.

Upon John Robinson, a pretty Witty Boy, that never Suckt.

Upon Madam E. B. of Blakeny in Norf. a beautiful Child.

Upon some Gentlemen Rowing down the River, on Friday, June the last, an exceeding hot Day.

Upon a Country Parson and his Man, and a Parishoner whose Name was Ivorie.

Upon a Dog call'd Fudle, turn-spit at the Popinjay in Norwich.

Upon a Confident Chast Young Lady.

To the thrice Lovely Guiana.

Upon Guiana's Farewell to Sharington.

To my Honoured Friend Mr. J. W. Student in Lincolns Inne, Upon the Death of his dear Wife Mrs. A. W.

An Elegy upon Mr. Robert Doughty of Grayes Inn, depriv'd of his Spouse.

Upon His Majesties Progress into Norfolk, Sept. 28. 1671.

Observations upon Lillie's Almanack.

Upon the Norfolk Largess.

To my dear Friend Mr. Sam. Stainer new come from Messina.

The Cooks Catastrophe.

Upon Shortwhite, the Noble Hampstead Cock.

To a Non-sensical Barbar wou'd seem Poetical.

Upon one Day that ran away, and laid the Key under the Door.

To T. B. Esq; wanting a Son, and Heir; and upon his two fair Daughters.

An Elegy on the Reverend John Crofts, D. D. and Deane of Norwich.

An Elegy upon a Reverend Divine Buryed in the Ruines of his Church.

Upon the Reverend Herbert Ashley, L L. B. Elected Dean of Norwich, from many Rivals.

Upon the Famous Sun Tavern behind the Exchange.

Upon a Silver Box presented to His Mistriss, with this Paper in It.

Upon the Vertuous Brown (I know who) at the Popinjay.

Upon a Token drunk at the Star, sent Me by Honest Tho. Ridland, at the Popinjay in Norwich.

Upon a Sparrow catcht at a Pipe of Canary.

The Willow Garland.

Upon a Miller's Son, Sometimes a Peticannon, but turn'd out for disaffectedness to Episcopacy.

Defiance to the Dutch.

Upon a Friend Lamenting the Loss of Learning.

To a Coy Lady that wou'd not come to a Treat.

Upon the great Fire at St. Catharines, on Whitsunday, 1672.

Upon a Rusty Patch on an Iron Face.

Upon one that promised me Four Cravats, boasting he had Fifty.

Upon a Trusty Taylor.

To the Gentile Drapers in St. Paul's Church-Yard, retorting to the Play call'd, The Citizen turn'd Gentleman.

Upon one Mrs. K---, who sets all her Neighbours together by the Ears with lying Tales.

CAROLINA.

Fair and Faithful.

The Quakers Wedding.

Upon a Camp should have been plaid, neer the black house by Kirby for a Crown a piece, and was not.

To Tom. Sharington, Commendations to mine Hostess, where his Mare was at Cure.

Upon a great Windy Night.

An Elegy upon old Freeman, us'd hardly by the Committee, for lying in the Cathedral, and in Church-Porches, praying the Common-prayer by heart, &c.

An Elegy upon Sir Joseph Payne, sometimes Major and Collonel of the Train'd Bands of the City of Norwich, who dyed in Harvest.

An Elegy Perpetuated to the Memory of Henry Terne, Esq; Captain of the Triumph.

An Elegy upon the Right Worshipful Sir Thomas Rant.

An Elegy upon Miles Hobart, Esq; who dy'd the Friday before good Friday.

An Elegy upon the Reverend John Porter, D. D. and Prebend of Christ-Church in Norwich.

Upon a Red Face

The Low Estate of the Low-Country Countess of Holland, on Her Death-bed, with the Advice of her Doctors, and Confessors.

The Royal Rendezvous. Or, the Magnificence of His Majesties Fleet.

Upon one Bacon Rob'd by a Red Coat.

Upon the New Vizor Mask.

A Vindication of the Vizor-Mask.

To One that told Me, He had Three Heads.

Upon a Hosier that carry'd His Wife to give Her a Lobster, and lockt Her up in an Apothecarie's House, pretending her mad, where She was kept Fourteen Days with Bread and Water.

Pallor in ore Sedet.

Upon One pretending to Treat His Wife with a Lobster, and putting of her in Lobspound.

SONG.

A Contest at the Hoop-Tavern between two Lawyers.

An Elegy upon Mrs. R. H. who dyed for Love of a piteous perfideous Presbyterian.

A. B. To an Old Woman was afraid He would steal her Daughter, who was ugly, and crooked as a Sythe, and Light withall.

An Elegy some Years after the Death of his honoured Couzen Mr. R. Cooke.

The Woman's Warre; Or, the Dutch beat to Dirt by the Frowes.

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An Elegy upon Mrs. R. H. who dyed for Love of a piteous perfideous Presbyterian.

Unhappy Maid! in this yet, ever blest,
Paid Love, and Nature, Debt, and Interest.
This happens not to common Souls, none save
The Noble-minded, love-deep as the Grave.
Disdain did smother what she else had spoke,
And to prevent complaint, her heart-strings broke;
Tamely submitting to her stubborn fate,
Lest Love abus'd should end in equal hate.

120

In this her Destiny seem'd kind, and witty,
Since he could slight his faith, to scorn his pitty:
Love, lovely Maid, like Lightning came to thee,
Dissolv'd the Steel, and set the Scabbard free.
Base minds had never understood his quirks,
Or Objects capable his Magick works.
Her passion she did in her bosome choak,
The flame was so all-pure, there was no smoak:
Her looks she did to her concerns estrange,
As her outside were ignorant of her change.
For as those Apples, which we Sodom call,
She flourisht in the instant of her fall.

But, that the Object of her love was such,
So inconsiderable, troubled me much!
To rob her of her self, and honour too,
What is't a Presbyterian will not do!
Yet do not pitty her, though she be dead,
A Grave is safer, than a Traytor's Bed.
A miscreant, at Ends so base did drive,
Wou'd not permit her very Name survive.
Go, go, perfideous wretch, thy fate abide,
Fate that will find thee double homicide.
Yet, if thou canst: (I doubt it though) farewell;
But Conscience is a Prologue to thy Hell.
Whilst lovely Rachel has shakt off this life,
To be more happy, than to be a Wife.

121

Since men turn women, and inconstant prove,
More welcome Death, than either life, or love.
Be this recorded for all dainty Dames.
Here lies a Maid martyr'd in her own flames.