The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley Collected and Edited from the Old Editions: With a preface on the text, explanatory and textual notes, an appendix containing works of doubtful authenticity, and a bibliography: By V. de Sola Pinto |
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| LXXXIX. | LXXXIX THE HAPPY PAIR: OR, A POEM ON MATRIMONY. |
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 | The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley |  |
65
LXXXIX
THE HAPPY PAIR: OR, A POEM ON MATRIMONY.
When first the World from the black Chaos rose,
And Infant-Beauty did the Frame compose;
When Heav'n and Man possess'd one state of Mind,
And the pure Globe, like its CREATOR, shin'd:
When free from Sin the noble Mortal strove
To Rival God in his return of Love.
When damning PRIDE, that Architect of Hell,
Made not, as yet, his Tempted Soul Rebel.
When plunging Avarice no Birth had found,
Nor tore the precious Entrails of the Ground;
Then then the new Inhabitant was blest,
Ease watch'd his Heart, and Peace secur'd his Breast;
No Earthy Thought tainted his gen'rous Mind,
That World th' Almighty gave him, he declin'd;
His God-like Image made him upwards move;
He liv'd below while his Soul dwelt above.
Riches were things too weak t' enslave his Sense,
The Daz'ling Di'mond wanted Influence.
Pearls, like the Common Gravel, he contemn'd,
And what we count a God, he thought no Friend.
With heat of Love he flam'd upon his Mate,
And on the green Swarth without dowry sate:
Circling her snowy Neck, he sought her Heart;
A fi'ry Lover, free from Fraud, or Art.
The Object of his restless Thoughts, was Bliss,
And that he found in one Embrace, one Kiss:
One Clasp, one Hugg, one eager Glance was more,
Than Worlds of Pearl, or heaps of Golden Ore.
He prais'd his priz'd Affection next his God,
And thought his Wife the second Chiefest Good;
The Heav'n-born Dame brought to his longing Arms
Her Soul, her Beauty, and resistless Charms.
Her Breast an equal active Fire did move,
She lost the thoughts of Empire in his Love.
The splendid stile of Empress she despis'd,
The World a Cypher to the Man she priz'd:
Her crouding Wishes him alone persu'd,
No sep'rate Greatness cou'd her Love delude:
Her Intellectuals pure, knew how to scan
That Great and Independent Monarch, Man;
That little, but more weighty World Refin'd,
More apt, and suited to her Heav'nly Mind.
She understood, that all that Good we name,
Was nicely wrapt and folded up in him.
Oh Fate! from whence proceeds the hidden Cause,
That we at LOVE, that glorious Passion, pause!
Was it with Adam's Innocence betray'd,
Or, by his Lapse, a Malefactor made?
Or have our own acquir'd Excesses been
So daring, to determin it a Sin?
What shou'd at once proclaim us Blest and Great,
We fly, and court the Land-mark of our Fate.
Like murm'ring full-mouth'd Isra'lites we stand,
And run on Rocks, to shun the Holy Land.
From hence the baffl'd World has been inverst,
Princes involv'd in War, and People Curst;
Friends to their Confidents Estrang'd, and those
Whom Fathers Got, to tender Fathers Foes.
Hence Lands United to themselves, divide,
And cease their strict Alliance, tho' Ally'd.
Hence hot debates grow in Domestick Pow'rs,
The Man's unkind, the cheated Woman Low'rs.
Man, like the sordid Earth, from which he sprung,
Corrupts his Soul by a base heap of Dung:
Forgetting the Celestial Form he bore,
He values not the Woman, but her Store:
Extends his treach'rous Pledge to golden Charms,
And joins his hands to none but spangled Arms.
He Weds her Jewels, and her Amber-Chains
But her Rich Self (that merits all) Disdains:
Her Face he praises, but he courts her Ears,
Catching the glitt'ring Pendants that she wears:
Each Eye no longer he esteem's a Star,
Than flaming Rubies h[u]ng upon her Hair:
And judging Love, without her Gold, a Curse,
He scorns her Vertue, and adores her Purse.
And Infant-Beauty did the Frame compose;
When Heav'n and Man possess'd one state of Mind,
And the pure Globe, like its CREATOR, shin'd:
When free from Sin the noble Mortal strove
To Rival God in his return of Love.
When damning PRIDE, that Architect of Hell,
Made not, as yet, his Tempted Soul Rebel.
When plunging Avarice no Birth had found,
Nor tore the precious Entrails of the Ground;
Then then the new Inhabitant was blest,
Ease watch'd his Heart, and Peace secur'd his Breast;
No Earthy Thought tainted his gen'rous Mind,
That World th' Almighty gave him, he declin'd;
His God-like Image made him upwards move;
He liv'd below while his Soul dwelt above.
Riches were things too weak t' enslave his Sense,
The Daz'ling Di'mond wanted Influence.
Pearls, like the Common Gravel, he contemn'd,
And what we count a God, he thought no Friend.
With heat of Love he flam'd upon his Mate,
And on the green Swarth without dowry sate:
Circling her snowy Neck, he sought her Heart;
A fi'ry Lover, free from Fraud, or Art.
The Object of his restless Thoughts, was Bliss,
And that he found in one Embrace, one Kiss:
One Clasp, one Hugg, one eager Glance was more,
Than Worlds of Pearl, or heaps of Golden Ore.
66
And thought his Wife the second Chiefest Good;
The Heav'n-born Dame brought to his longing Arms
Her Soul, her Beauty, and resistless Charms.
Her Breast an equal active Fire did move,
She lost the thoughts of Empire in his Love.
The splendid stile of Empress she despis'd,
The World a Cypher to the Man she priz'd:
Her crouding Wishes him alone persu'd,
No sep'rate Greatness cou'd her Love delude:
Her Intellectuals pure, knew how to scan
That Great and Independent Monarch, Man;
That little, but more weighty World Refin'd,
More apt, and suited to her Heav'nly Mind.
She understood, that all that Good we name,
Was nicely wrapt and folded up in him.
Oh Fate! from whence proceeds the hidden Cause,
That we at LOVE, that glorious Passion, pause!
Was it with Adam's Innocence betray'd,
Or, by his Lapse, a Malefactor made?
Or have our own acquir'd Excesses been
So daring, to determin it a Sin?
What shou'd at once proclaim us Blest and Great,
We fly, and court the Land-mark of our Fate.
Like murm'ring full-mouth'd Isra'lites we stand,
And run on Rocks, to shun the Holy Land.
From hence the baffl'd World has been inverst,
Princes involv'd in War, and People Curst;
Friends to their Confidents Estrang'd, and those
Whom Fathers Got, to tender Fathers Foes.
Hence Lands United to themselves, divide,
And cease their strict Alliance, tho' Ally'd.
Hence hot debates grow in Domestick Pow'rs,
The Man's unkind, the cheated Woman Low'rs.
Man, like the sordid Earth, from which he sprung,
Corrupts his Soul by a base heap of Dung:
67
He values not the Woman, but her Store:
Extends his treach'rous Pledge to golden Charms,
And joins his hands to none but spangled Arms.
He Weds her Jewels, and her Amber-Chains
But her Rich Self (that merits all) Disdains:
Her Face he praises, but he courts her Ears,
Catching the glitt'ring Pendants that she wears:
Each Eye no longer he esteem's a Star,
Than flaming Rubies h[u]ng upon her Hair:
And judging Love, without her Gold, a Curse,
He scorns her Vertue, and adores her Purse.
The Woman too no less Debas'd than he,
Gives not her self, but for GRATUITY;
Sooth's like a Merchant, with inveagling Art,
Demands her JOINTURE, and keeps back her Heart.
On Terms and Articles, with Pride proceeds,
And Seals her cold Affections to her Deeds:
Stands off and Treat's like an Imperious State,
And baulks her Happiness, to be made Great:
Proclaims her Fortune of a goodly Size,
And he that offers most, obtains the Prize.
Gives not her self, but for GRATUITY;
Sooth's like a Merchant, with inveagling Art,
Demands her JOINTURE, and keeps back her Heart.
On Terms and Articles, with Pride proceeds,
And Seals her cold Affections to her Deeds:
Stands off and Treat's like an Imperious State,
And baulks her Happiness, to be made Great:
Proclaims her Fortune of a goodly Size,
And he that offers most, obtains the Prize.
Both Sexes now deprave their Noble Kind,
While sordid Avarice corrupts the Mind.
Never consult poor Vertue when they choose.
But for a painted Cloud, the Goddess lose.
Divine content they count a finer Cheat,
A Dish for Ornament, but no true Meat:
A meer Romance, an idle Dream of those,
Who wanting Wealth, think to disguise their Woes.
A Mountebank, that only boasts of Cures;
But cannot work th' Effects his Cant assures
The vain deluded Atheist thus denies
A Supreme Essence, hid from Human Eyes:
Because his Sense can't apprehend a God,
Religion's Sottish and her Zealots Mad.
But look, a Marry'd and a happy PAIR,
Are now like Revelations, Strange and Rare:
But if we reason from the Ages gone,
There scarcely was a happy Match, but One.
While sordid Avarice corrupts the Mind.
Never consult poor Vertue when they choose.
But for a painted Cloud, the Goddess lose.
Divine content they count a finer Cheat,
A Dish for Ornament, but no true Meat:
A meer Romance, an idle Dream of those,
Who wanting Wealth, think to disguise their Woes.
A Mountebank, that only boasts of Cures;
But cannot work th' Effects his Cant assures
The vain deluded Atheist thus denies
A Supreme Essence, hid from Human Eyes:
Because his Sense can't apprehend a God,
Religion's Sottish and her Zealots Mad.
68
Are now like Revelations, Strange and Rare:
But if we reason from the Ages gone,
There scarcely was a happy Match, but One.
We mind not now the Merits of our Kind,
Curious in Gold, but to the Persons Blind.
The Man ne'er minds his Love, for Money still
Is the base thirsted Object of his Will.
Upon condition of a promis'd Store,
He'll hugg a thing that crawls upon all Four.
Bring him an Old Rich Corps with grim Death's Head,
He'll Swear she's Young, and her Complexion Red.
Or if you cou'd bring one without a Face,
He'll praise her conq'ring Eyes, and charming Grace.
The Woman too, by such Affections led,
Contemns the Living, to embrace the Dead.
And rather than not Covet, basely bold,
Would wed a Coffin, were the Hinges Gold.
Nature's Apostate, active Youth she Scorns,
Will long for Oxen, if you gild their Horns.
Say he's Deform'd, has neither Eyes nor Nose,
Nay, nothing to bespeak him Man, but Cloaths,
Strait she reply's he's Rich, so passes down;
There's nothing ugly, but a poor Baboon.
Thus might she clasp a loathsom Toad in Bed,
Because he bears a Pearl within his Head.
And gilded Pills, tho' bitter, may delight
The liquerish Lust of wav'ring Appetite.
But still tho' Wealth their griping Senses Feasts,
At most, they're but concatenated Beasts.
For as they scorn all consonance of Soul,
A mutual Hatred must their Peace control.
And this stands fix'd, what with my Love won't suit,
Appears Deform'd, and strait commences Bruit.
To various Climes of Tempers each are thrown,
The Frigid coupled to the Torrid Zone;
Like Curs of different Nature, in a Chain,
They're link'd in Fear, and wear their Bonds in Pain.
Perhaps a cold Respect they both may shew,
As Impious Men to a kind Demon do.
Who when some skulking Wealth he does unfold,
Honour and dread him for their New-found Gold.
But view, unrobe the bosom of Disguise,
Observe the strange aversion of their Eyes:
With palpitations of Regret They Twine,
Like Oil and Water their false Loves combine.
With feign'd Embrace they seem Love's Joys to crave,
But with their Bed, converted to a Grave:
And whilst their backward Hearts like Load-stones meet,
They wish their Linnen were their Winding-sheet.
He, like the Bear of Love, her Body Clips,
Instead of pressing, bites her glowing Lips.
She, like a wounded Otter, flings and Rails,
Fires with her Tongue, and combats with her Nails.
Hell and Confusion seize the Place around,
Nothing but mutual Frenzy's to be found.
They both launch out into a Sea of Strife,
A clam'rous Husband, and a brawling Wife.
The whole Armado of their Thoughts combine,
On each side Summon'd, they in Consort join.
He arms Revenge, she meets him with Disdain,
And to't they rush, like Storms upon the Main.
She to her shrill loud Clamours, takes recourse,
Stamps, and invokes the Clergy for Divorce;
Detests the Light by which his Face she saw,
Curses the Bands, and Execrates the Law.
Directs to Heav'n her folded Hands with Pray'rs,
And pouring down a flood of briny Tears;
Hopes that kind Justice wou'd her grief behold,
Pity an injur'd Lover, tho' a Scold:
That Death wou'd snatch him from the loathsom Bed,
And Heav'n restore the Will which she betray'd,
He with Distraction and with Rage grows blind,
Curses the Sex, and Damns all Woman-kind:
Accuses Heav'n that such a Monster made,
A Fury in deceitful Masquerade.
A gaudy Phantom, that deludes the Sight,
A Devil with the Coverture of Light;
Blasphemes, and by his Passion cast so far,
Destroys himself by Persecuting her:
Abjures his Faith sworn to a legal Bed,
Hates her, and lays another by his Side;
Profusely lavishes, her Right, each Kiss,
And wracks her with the sight of wrongful Bliss.
She grows provok'd upon the dismal Change,
And turns Dishonest, to retort Revenge:
The breach of Chastity she makes her Play,
Plagues him all Night, and Cuckolds him all Day.
Curious in Gold, but to the Persons Blind.
The Man ne'er minds his Love, for Money still
Is the base thirsted Object of his Will.
Upon condition of a promis'd Store,
He'll hugg a thing that crawls upon all Four.
Bring him an Old Rich Corps with grim Death's Head,
He'll Swear she's Young, and her Complexion Red.
Or if you cou'd bring one without a Face,
He'll praise her conq'ring Eyes, and charming Grace.
The Woman too, by such Affections led,
Contemns the Living, to embrace the Dead.
And rather than not Covet, basely bold,
Would wed a Coffin, were the Hinges Gold.
Nature's Apostate, active Youth she Scorns,
Will long for Oxen, if you gild their Horns.
Say he's Deform'd, has neither Eyes nor Nose,
Nay, nothing to bespeak him Man, but Cloaths,
Strait she reply's he's Rich, so passes down;
There's nothing ugly, but a poor Baboon.
Thus might she clasp a loathsom Toad in Bed,
Because he bears a Pearl within his Head.
And gilded Pills, tho' bitter, may delight
The liquerish Lust of wav'ring Appetite.
But still tho' Wealth their griping Senses Feasts,
At most, they're but concatenated Beasts.
For as they scorn all consonance of Soul,
A mutual Hatred must their Peace control.
And this stands fix'd, what with my Love won't suit,
Appears Deform'd, and strait commences Bruit.
To various Climes of Tempers each are thrown,
The Frigid coupled to the Torrid Zone;
69
They're link'd in Fear, and wear their Bonds in Pain.
Perhaps a cold Respect they both may shew,
As Impious Men to a kind Demon do.
Who when some skulking Wealth he does unfold,
Honour and dread him for their New-found Gold.
But view, unrobe the bosom of Disguise,
Observe the strange aversion of their Eyes:
With palpitations of Regret They Twine,
Like Oil and Water their false Loves combine.
With feign'd Embrace they seem Love's Joys to crave,
But with their Bed, converted to a Grave:
And whilst their backward Hearts like Load-stones meet,
They wish their Linnen were their Winding-sheet.
He, like the Bear of Love, her Body Clips,
Instead of pressing, bites her glowing Lips.
She, like a wounded Otter, flings and Rails,
Fires with her Tongue, and combats with her Nails.
Hell and Confusion seize the Place around,
Nothing but mutual Frenzy's to be found.
They both launch out into a Sea of Strife,
A clam'rous Husband, and a brawling Wife.
The whole Armado of their Thoughts combine,
On each side Summon'd, they in Consort join.
He arms Revenge, she meets him with Disdain,
And to't they rush, like Storms upon the Main.
She to her shrill loud Clamours, takes recourse,
Stamps, and invokes the Clergy for Divorce;
Detests the Light by which his Face she saw,
Curses the Bands, and Execrates the Law.
Directs to Heav'n her folded Hands with Pray'rs,
And pouring down a flood of briny Tears;
Hopes that kind Justice wou'd her grief behold,
Pity an injur'd Lover, tho' a Scold:
That Death wou'd snatch him from the loathsom Bed,
And Heav'n restore the Will which she betray'd,
70
Curses the Sex, and Damns all Woman-kind:
Accuses Heav'n that such a Monster made,
A Fury in deceitful Masquerade.
A gaudy Phantom, that deludes the Sight,
A Devil with the Coverture of Light;
Blasphemes, and by his Passion cast so far,
Destroys himself by Persecuting her:
Abjures his Faith sworn to a legal Bed,
Hates her, and lays another by his Side;
Profusely lavishes, her Right, each Kiss,
And wracks her with the sight of wrongful Bliss.
She grows provok'd upon the dismal Change,
And turns Dishonest, to retort Revenge:
The breach of Chastity she makes her Play,
Plagues him all Night, and Cuckolds him all Day.
This must be then the issue, where our Love,
Does not together with our Nuptials move.
Possessions can't for fickle Joy provide.
When Love the end of Living, is Destroy'd.
Alas! we're all mistaken in the Kind,
A happy Man is measur'd by the Mind.
Suppose him born to all the Pomp of Life;
Admit he's match'd to Beauty in a Wife,
These are but Pageants, which a while may please,
They may Divert him, but procure no Ease.
That Grandeur is no compound of our Bliss,
The rugged Bosoms of the Great confess.
The gilded Monarch's Sable stands within,
His Glory to his Troubles, but a Shrine:
His Cares, his Jealousies, Nocturnal Frights,
Imbitter all his Joys and false Delights.
His toiling Head with Grief a Crown must bear,
Whilst he still starts and grasps, to hold it there.
And thus all Princes to this Hell we trace,
They Reign without, and are but Kings by Place.
But lest ambitious Maids in Scorn relate,
This is the utmost Tyranny of Fate;
That such Seditious disagreeing Pairs,
Are scarcely known in Centuries of Years.
We'll grant, (which yet no less Misfortune breeds)
The Woman loves the Golden Man she Weds.
We'll think she brings with her Estate a Mind,
Pure as her Sterling, from it's Dross Refin'd.
Yet this is so unlikely to succeed,
It Murders what it first design'd to Feed.
He strait concludes her Passion a Pretence,
Condemns her Soul, and lays the Crime on Sense.
Argues, she only chose to be his Bride,
To serve and gratify her costly Pride.
But still we'll give this Topick larger Law,
We'll say an equal Passion both does draw.
We will suppose them both enclin'd to Love.
We'll call her Venus, and we'll stile him Jove;
Yet through the Tides of Business in his Head,
He must neglect, and at length slight her Bed.
His peeping Passion, like a feeble Sun,
Mingled with Show'rs of Rain, will soon be gone.
And if perhaps there's left some poor Remains,
Like Northern Gold, 'tis in penurious Veins.
Diffus'd and scatter'd o'er the barren Land,
Amidst vast heaps of Lead and worthless Sand.
This must be then a sad Reward of Love,
When he thus senseless of her Choice do's prove.
Her Am'rous Courage ne'er can long be bold,
That finds herself out-rival'd by her Gold.
Both their Affections to the Deep are sent,
He sinks through Weight, and she through Discontent.
Their Riches then shew their defect of Pow'r,
That can't create what Want do's oft procure.
In thought of Wealth, he can't Intomb his Smart,
When sullen Love preys on his stubborn Heart.
If crouded Chests and glutted Coffers can
Restore Contentment to the anxious Man;
Possess'd of those, if he from Pain is free,
A troubled, may be call'd a quiet Sea:
Because there's Pearl and Amber on the Shoars,
And thus it's strangely Silenc'd when it Roars.
Does not together with our Nuptials move.
Possessions can't for fickle Joy provide.
When Love the end of Living, is Destroy'd.
Alas! we're all mistaken in the Kind,
A happy Man is measur'd by the Mind.
Suppose him born to all the Pomp of Life;
Admit he's match'd to Beauty in a Wife,
These are but Pageants, which a while may please,
They may Divert him, but procure no Ease.
That Grandeur is no compound of our Bliss,
The rugged Bosoms of the Great confess.
The gilded Monarch's Sable stands within,
His Glory to his Troubles, but a Shrine:
His Cares, his Jealousies, Nocturnal Frights,
Imbitter all his Joys and false Delights.
His toiling Head with Grief a Crown must bear,
Whilst he still starts and grasps, to hold it there.
And thus all Princes to this Hell we trace,
They Reign without, and are but Kings by Place.
But lest ambitious Maids in Scorn relate,
This is the utmost Tyranny of Fate;
71
Are scarcely known in Centuries of Years.
We'll grant, (which yet no less Misfortune breeds)
The Woman loves the Golden Man she Weds.
We'll think she brings with her Estate a Mind,
Pure as her Sterling, from it's Dross Refin'd.
Yet this is so unlikely to succeed,
It Murders what it first design'd to Feed.
He strait concludes her Passion a Pretence,
Condemns her Soul, and lays the Crime on Sense.
Argues, she only chose to be his Bride,
To serve and gratify her costly Pride.
But still we'll give this Topick larger Law,
We'll say an equal Passion both does draw.
We will suppose them both enclin'd to Love.
We'll call her Venus, and we'll stile him Jove;
Yet through the Tides of Business in his Head,
He must neglect, and at length slight her Bed.
His peeping Passion, like a feeble Sun,
Mingled with Show'rs of Rain, will soon be gone.
And if perhaps there's left some poor Remains,
Like Northern Gold, 'tis in penurious Veins.
Diffus'd and scatter'd o'er the barren Land,
Amidst vast heaps of Lead and worthless Sand.
This must be then a sad Reward of Love,
When he thus senseless of her Choice do's prove.
Her Am'rous Courage ne'er can long be bold,
That finds herself out-rival'd by her Gold.
Both their Affections to the Deep are sent,
He sinks through Weight, and she through Discontent.
Their Riches then shew their defect of Pow'r,
That can't create what Want do's oft procure.
In thought of Wealth, he can't Intomb his Smart,
When sullen Love preys on his stubborn Heart.
If crouded Chests and glutted Coffers can
Restore Contentment to the anxious Man;
72
A troubled, may be call'd a quiet Sea:
Because there's Pearl and Amber on the Shoars,
And thus it's strangely Silenc'd when it Roars.
But 'twere, methinks, an easie Task to prove
There's no such Curse, as Mercenary Love;
True Fire the Hearts oth' Wealthy seldom breed,
They may through Care, but not Affection bleed.
Their Tenures, Lands, their Rents, and Quarter-days,
In their Distracted Heads strong Factions raise.
And whensoe'er poor simpering Love peeps in,
He's by that boistrous Crowd beat out agen:
Crœsus is still perplex'd to guard his Store;
Fears 'twill be less, labours to make it more.
Thus what he hoard's by the excess of Gain,
Starves his lean Joy, but feeds his pamper'd Pain.
When Love with kind Caresses he should please,
He forms Indentures, draws a cautious Lease;
On nasty Acres all his Speeches run,
His Heart's a Tumult, like a Market-Town.
And when in Bed he shou'd Embrace his Spouse,
Like a Dull Ox, he's still amongst the Cows;
Chew's all the Night upon the next fair Day,
How much this Horse, how much that Load of Hay.
No thought but that of Cattle, yoaks his Heart,
His Soul's the Driver, and himself the Cart.
Nothing but Buz and Noise, his Fancy seize,
His Head's the Hive, his busie Thoughts the Bees.
In vain the Wife do's for the Husband Mourn,
Whilst she's the Burthen, and her Love the Droan.
Love, like a cautious fearful Bird, ne'er builds,
But where the Place Silence and Calmness yields:
He slily flies to Copses, where he finds
The snugging Woods secure from Blasts and Winds.
Shuns the huge Boughs of a more stately Form,
And Laughs at Trees tore up with ev'ry Storm.
The pleasant Nightingale can ne'er be won,
To quit a Temp'rate Shade, to scorch i'th' Sun;
In some low Grove, he sings his Charming Note[,]
And on a Thorn tunes the sweet Warbling Throat.
There's no such Curse, as Mercenary Love;
True Fire the Hearts oth' Wealthy seldom breed,
They may through Care, but not Affection bleed.
Their Tenures, Lands, their Rents, and Quarter-days,
In their Distracted Heads strong Factions raise.
And whensoe'er poor simpering Love peeps in,
He's by that boistrous Crowd beat out agen:
Crœsus is still perplex'd to guard his Store;
Fears 'twill be less, labours to make it more.
Thus what he hoard's by the excess of Gain,
Starves his lean Joy, but feeds his pamper'd Pain.
When Love with kind Caresses he should please,
He forms Indentures, draws a cautious Lease;
On nasty Acres all his Speeches run,
His Heart's a Tumult, like a Market-Town.
And when in Bed he shou'd Embrace his Spouse,
Like a Dull Ox, he's still amongst the Cows;
Chew's all the Night upon the next fair Day,
How much this Horse, how much that Load of Hay.
No thought but that of Cattle, yoaks his Heart,
His Soul's the Driver, and himself the Cart.
Nothing but Buz and Noise, his Fancy seize,
His Head's the Hive, his busie Thoughts the Bees.
In vain the Wife do's for the Husband Mourn,
Whilst she's the Burthen, and her Love the Droan.
Love, like a cautious fearful Bird, ne'er builds,
But where the Place Silence and Calmness yields:
He slily flies to Copses, where he finds
The snugging Woods secure from Blasts and Winds.
73
And Laughs at Trees tore up with ev'ry Storm.
The pleasant Nightingale can ne'er be won,
To quit a Temp'rate Shade, to scorch i'th' Sun;
In some low Grove, he sings his Charming Note[,]
And on a Thorn tunes the sweet Warbling Throat.
We'll take a Rustick Couple for our Scenes,
Who Love, and know not what Ambition means:
Who such an even competence possess,
What may support, but not disturb their Bliss.
See how unmov'd they at all Changes stand,
Shipwrecks at Sea, and Earthquakes on the Land:
The Fraud of Courts, the Knavish Toil of Clowns,
A Monarch's Favour, or his pointed Frowns,
Concern them not; they but themselves abuse,
In valuing that they ne'er intend to use.
Each to the other proves a solid Bliss,
Rich in themselves no want of Happiness.
Like Ægypt, in whose Land all Plenty grows,
Each others Bottom is their best Repose.
When clam'rous Storms, and pitchy Tempests rise,
Cheek clings to Cheek, and swimming Eyes to Eyes:
When jarring Winds and dreadful Thundres Roar,
It serves to make 'em Press, and Love the more.
Immortal Beings thus themselves Cajol,
Spurn stinking Sense, and feed upon the Soul.
Here let us leave them bathing in pure Joy,
Whom envious Man, nor Fate can e'er destroy.
Here let 'em live to share all Wealth and Pow'r,
As Greatness can't love less, they can't love more.
To the Divinest State of things they drive,
Like Pilgrim-Angels, on the Earth they live,
Kind Nature gave them, Fortune bore no part,
Love join'd their Souls, and Heav'n seal'd each Heart.
Who Love, and know not what Ambition means:
Who such an even competence possess,
What may support, but not disturb their Bliss.
See how unmov'd they at all Changes stand,
Shipwrecks at Sea, and Earthquakes on the Land:
The Fraud of Courts, the Knavish Toil of Clowns,
A Monarch's Favour, or his pointed Frowns,
Concern them not; they but themselves abuse,
In valuing that they ne'er intend to use.
Each to the other proves a solid Bliss,
Rich in themselves no want of Happiness.
Like Ægypt, in whose Land all Plenty grows,
Each others Bottom is their best Repose.
When clam'rous Storms, and pitchy Tempests rise,
Cheek clings to Cheek, and swimming Eyes to Eyes:
When jarring Winds and dreadful Thundres Roar,
It serves to make 'em Press, and Love the more.
Immortal Beings thus themselves Cajol,
Spurn stinking Sense, and feed upon the Soul.
Here let us leave them bathing in pure Joy,
Whom envious Man, nor Fate can e'er destroy.
Here let 'em live to share all Wealth and Pow'r,
As Greatness can't love less, they can't love more.
To the Divinest State of things they drive,
Like Pilgrim-Angels, on the Earth they live,
Kind Nature gave them, Fortune bore no part,
Love join'd their Souls, and Heav'n seal'd each Heart.
| The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley | |