A Miscellany of Poems consisting of Original Poems, Translations, Pastorals in the Cumberland Dialect, Familiar Epistles, Fables, Songs, and Epigrams, by the late Reverend Josiah Relph ... With a Preface and a Glossary |
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To Mr. C---r in Love.
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 | A Miscellany of Poems |  |
152
To Mr. C---r in Love.
—Ah miser!
Quantâ laboras in Charybdi.
Quantâ laboras in Charybdi.
Yes to be sure, that pretty she
Is fair—as what? as fair can be:
Her eyes (from which good Angels keep us)
Are like to put out those of Phœbus;
Her brows above exactly show
The force of Cupid's bended bow,
Her nose is cruel as his dart
The bane of many a peaceful heart!
Her cheeks—in vain! no tongue can speak
The beauties of her blooming cheek;
Who never saw th' orig'nal, those
May view the copy in a rose:
On teeth and lips, on neck and breast,
There is not time for me to rest;
The reader I refer to any
Poëtical good miscellany.
Is fair—as what? as fair can be:
Her eyes (from which good Angels keep us)
Are like to put out those of Phœbus;
Her brows above exactly show
The force of Cupid's bended bow,
Her nose is cruel as his dart
The bane of many a peaceful heart!
Her cheeks—in vain! no tongue can speak
The beauties of her blooming cheek;
Who never saw th' orig'nal, those
May view the copy in a rose:
On teeth and lips, on neck and breast,
There is not time for me to rest;
153
Poëtical good miscellany.
And dost thou then (once happy C---r)
But hapless now, set by thy supper?
And oft for day thro' curtains peep,
Or tell thy passion when asleep?
Dost thou look sullen out of measure
As ghosts depriv'd of dear lov'd treasure?
Talk seldom and with little sense,
Esteeming all impertinence?
Say, does there oft a tempest rise,
(Made up of many deep-fetch'd sighs)
Whereby each weathercock and sign
Like hogs when Boreas blusters, whine?
And do the streams that wash S---dg---
Sometimes o'erflow their banks of late,
Swell'd by thy falling sorrows more,
Than winter storm, or thunder show'r?
But hapless now, set by thy supper?
And oft for day thro' curtains peep,
Or tell thy passion when asleep?
Dost thou look sullen out of measure
As ghosts depriv'd of dear lov'd treasure?
Talk seldom and with little sense,
Esteeming all impertinence?
Say, does there oft a tempest rise,
(Made up of many deep-fetch'd sighs)
Whereby each weathercock and sign
Like hogs when Boreas blusters, whine?
And do the streams that wash S---dg---
Sometimes o'erflow their banks of late,
Swell'd by thy falling sorrows more,
Than winter storm, or thunder show'r?
154
For burning shame! forbear to cry
Like little master for a toy.
Shake of that passion—prythee do,
Yes, shake it off—I'll tell thee how.
Thy meal be short—thy grace long lasting;
(Dev'ls are driv'n out by pray'r and fasting.)
Touch not a glass, for fear you spy
The pretty sparkles of her eye;
Frequent no silent grove nor brook,
Unless well-arm'd with pious book;
In flowry garden never stray,
Read not a poëm or a play;
And shun (if e'er you would be well)
The melting strains of------
If Morpheus flies thy call, make use
Of Poppy's sleep-provoking juice;
Or if that fail, e'en get by heart
Some piece of mine, or any part;
Tho' all the cares of love encumber,
I'm positive 'twill make you slumber.
Like little master for a toy.
Shake of that passion—prythee do,
Yes, shake it off—I'll tell thee how.
Thy meal be short—thy grace long lasting;
(Dev'ls are driv'n out by pray'r and fasting.)
Touch not a glass, for fear you spy
The pretty sparkles of her eye;
Frequent no silent grove nor brook,
Unless well-arm'd with pious book;
In flowry garden never stray,
Read not a poëm or a play;
And shun (if e'er you would be well)
The melting strains of------
If Morpheus flies thy call, make use
Of Poppy's sleep-provoking juice;
Or if that fail, e'en get by heart
Some piece of mine, or any part;
155
I'm positive 'twill make you slumber.
| A Miscellany of Poems | |