 | The poems of John Wilmot: Earl of Rochester |  |
The Disabled Debauchee.
As some brave Admiral, in former War,
Depriv'd of force, but prest with courage still,
Two Rival-Fleets, appearing from a far,
Crawles to the top of an adjacent Hill:
Depriv'd of force, but prest with courage still,
Two Rival-Fleets, appearing from a far,
Crawles to the top of an adjacent Hill:
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From whence (with thoughts full of concern) he views
The wise, and daring Conduct of the fight,
And each bold Action, to his Mind renews,
His present glory, and his past delight;
The wise, and daring Conduct of the fight,
And each bold Action, to his Mind renews,
His present glory, and his past delight;
From his fierce Eyes, flashes of rage he throws,
As from black Clouds, when Lightning breaks away,
Transported, thinks himself amidst his Foes,
And absent, yet enjoys the Bloody Day;
As from black Clouds, when Lightning breaks away,
Transported, thinks himself amidst his Foes,
And absent, yet enjoys the Bloody Day;
So when my Days of impotence approach,
And I'm by Pox, and Wines unlucky chance,
Forc'd from the pleasing Billows of debauch,
On the dull Shore of lazy temperance,
And I'm by Pox, and Wines unlucky chance,
Forc'd from the pleasing Billows of debauch,
On the dull Shore of lazy temperance,
My pains at least some respite shall afford,
Whilst I behold the Battails you maintain,
When Fleets of Glasses, sail about the Board,
From whose Broad-sides Volleys of Wit shall rain.
Whilst I behold the Battails you maintain,
When Fleets of Glasses, sail about the Board,
From whose Broad-sides Volleys of Wit shall rain.
Nor let the sight of Honourable Scars,
Which my too forward Valour did procure,
Frighten new-listed Souldiers from the Warrs,
Past joys have more than paid what I endure.
Which my too forward Valour did procure,
Frighten new-listed Souldiers from the Warrs,
Past joys have more than paid what I endure.
Shou'd any Youth (worth being drunk) prove nice,
And from his fair Inviter meanly shrink,
'Twill please the Ghost, of my departed Vice,
If at my Councel, he repent and drink.
And from his fair Inviter meanly shrink,
'Twill please the Ghost, of my departed Vice,
If at my Councel, he repent and drink.
Or shou'd some cold complexion'd Sot forbid,
With his dull Morals, our Nights brisk Alarmes,
I'll fire his Blood by telling what I did,
When I was strong, and able to bear Armes.
With his dull Morals, our Nights brisk Alarmes,
I'll fire his Blood by telling what I did,
When I was strong, and able to bear Armes.
I'll tell of Whores attacqu'd, their Lords at home,
Bawds Quarters beaten up, and Fortress won,
Windows demolisht, Watches overcome,
And handsome ills, by my contrivance done.
Bawds Quarters beaten up, and Fortress won,
Windows demolisht, Watches overcome,
And handsome ills, by my contrivance done.
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Nor shall our Love-fits Cloris be forgot,
When each the well-look'd Link-Boy, strove t'enjoy,
And the best Kiss, was the deciding Lot,
Whether the Boy fuck'd you, or I the Boy.
When each the well-look'd Link-Boy, strove t'enjoy,
And the best Kiss, was the deciding Lot,
Whether the Boy fuck'd you, or I the Boy.
With Tales like these, I will such thoughts inspire,
As to important mischief shall incline.
I'll make him long some Antient Church to fire,
And fear no lewdness he's called to by Wine.
As to important mischief shall incline.
I'll make him long some Antient Church to fire,
And fear no lewdness he's called to by Wine.
Thus States-man-like, I'll sawcily impose,
And safe from Action valiantly advise,
Shelter'd in impotence, urge you to blows,
And being good for nothing else, be wise.
And safe from Action valiantly advise,
Shelter'd in impotence, urge you to blows,
And being good for nothing else, be wise.
| The poems of John Wilmot: Earl of Rochester | |