 | Poems on several occasions |  |
589
A LETTER FROM A GENTLEMAN AT AVIGNON TO HIS MISTRESS HERE:
IN ANSWER TO “A LETTER FROM A LADY” BY MR. TICKELL.
While far from thee in exile sad I rove,
With double weight of banishment and love,
Thy letter cheers me in a distant land;
But, O! 'tis written by another's hand.
Yet why should anxious doubts my bosom grieve,
Inclined by love and party to believe?
With double weight of banishment and love,
Thy letter cheers me in a distant land;
But, O! 'tis written by another's hand.
Yet why should anxious doubts my bosom grieve,
Inclined by love and party to believe?
You ask, what steady friends our cause will own
To fix the favourite wanderer on a throne,
Desperate if nothing stronger he prepares
Than female armies or than Popish prayers;
What wondrous schemes our dying hopes revive;
What countless sums our plunder'd friends can give;
What generous aid the hireling Swiss intends;
What swarms depopulated Sweden sends;—
At home inquire: The' Exchange will tell you all;
Or learn the' important secret at Whitehall,
Where plots most dangerous are to statesmen shown,
With us unheard-of, and at Rome unknown.
To fix the favourite wanderer on a throne,
Desperate if nothing stronger he prepares
Than female armies or than Popish prayers;
590
What countless sums our plunder'd friends can give;
What generous aid the hireling Swiss intends;
What swarms depopulated Sweden sends;—
At home inquire: The' Exchange will tell you all;
Or learn the' important secret at Whitehall,
Where plots most dangerous are to statesmen shown,
With us unheard-of, and at Rome unknown.
Let wonted pleasures wing your softer hours,
Nor church's safety banish matadores.
Nay, view the public as your usual game:
The stakes are different, but the chance the same.
Yet boast not, though you plead our exile's right
In all your dreams by day or feasts by night:
No passive fair one half the fury shows
Nor half the reading of her female foes.
To them the gentle Tatler gave alarms,
And aged Nestor kindled them to arms;
Legions of authors edified their zeal,
From Locke and Sidney down to Oates and Steele.
Can solitary Abel battle these?
Numbers bear down a single Hercules.
Nor church's safety banish matadores.
Nay, view the public as your usual game:
The stakes are different, but the chance the same.
Yet boast not, though you plead our exile's right
In all your dreams by day or feasts by night:
No passive fair one half the fury shows
Nor half the reading of her female foes.
591
And aged Nestor kindled them to arms;
Legions of authors edified their zeal,
From Locke and Sidney down to Oates and Steele.
Can solitary Abel battle these?
Numbers bear down a single Hercules.
How on the beauteous sex can James confide,
If half still combat on the adverse side,
With eyes opposed to eyes, an equal crowd,
Their nails as piercing and their tongues as loud?
While general Addison, the Squire of Dames,
Proud of enrolling their associate names,
Teaches their party-ribands to display,
And leads their banner'd host in fair array,
With patches ranged, the Tories to confound,
While fans loud-fluttering should the triumph sound,
What boot your headless, unexperienced bands
'Gainst troops so wise a veteran commands?
If half still combat on the adverse side,
With eyes opposed to eyes, an equal crowd,
Their nails as piercing and their tongues as loud?
While general Addison, the Squire of Dames,
Proud of enrolling their associate names,
Teaches their party-ribands to display,
And leads their banner'd host in fair array,
592
While fans loud-fluttering should the triumph sound,
What boot your headless, unexperienced bands
'Gainst troops so wise a veteran commands?
Vainly, alas! you rue and wormwood chose,
Or graced your bosoms with the Yorkist rose;
For herb-of-grace each loyal soldier hates,
And guards are planted at your churches' gates,
Justly enraged that damsels dare be seen
Adorn'd with virgin-white or willow-green.
Their ready insolence can all things dare,
Secured from every law but that of war;
Whose stern, unhallow'd rudeness could molest
The soft asylum of a maiden breast.
The city's ruler, arbitrary, pours
His civil vengeance on the traitor-flowers:
Nor pink nor primrose can be safely worn;
Nay, every bush which snowy flowers adorn
Is Popish deem'd as Glastonbury thorn.
Or graced your bosoms with the Yorkist rose;
For herb-of-grace each loyal soldier hates,
And guards are planted at your churches' gates,
Justly enraged that damsels dare be seen
Adorn'd with virgin-white or willow-green.
Their ready insolence can all things dare,
Secured from every law but that of war;
Whose stern, unhallow'd rudeness could molest
The soft asylum of a maiden breast.
The city's ruler, arbitrary, pours
His civil vengeance on the traitor-flowers:
593
Nay, every bush which snowy flowers adorn
Is Popish deem'd as Glastonbury thorn.
Your hopes imaginary succours feign:
Our enemies have seized on Drury-lane.
To force the strong intrenchments we despair;
For half the royal army quarters there,
Whose virtuous squadrons guard the friendly doors
Of veteran bawds and regimental whores.
There patriots flock, their loyalty to prove,
And throng the temple of the land of love;
Where Steele well-paid presides, adventurous knight!
Nor checks the progress of obscene delight.
There modest vestals laugh at Congreve's play,
Who sink with blushes at the farce of Gay;
Yet lewd Vanbrugh can with applauses see,
And smile barefaced at impious Wycherley.
At blackest scenes of vice they crowd the ring,
Blaspheming God, but honouring their king.
Did all the prostitutes for James declare,
Soon were the conquest gain'd without a war:
No change of chiefs could sinking George defend;
For every soldier would the dames befriend.
Our enemies have seized on Drury-lane.
To force the strong intrenchments we despair;
For half the royal army quarters there,
Whose virtuous squadrons guard the friendly doors
Of veteran bawds and regimental whores.
There patriots flock, their loyalty to prove,
And throng the temple of the land of love;
Where Steele well-paid presides, adventurous knight!
Nor checks the progress of obscene delight.
594
Who sink with blushes at the farce of Gay;
Yet lewd Vanbrugh can with applauses see,
And smile barefaced at impious Wycherley.
At blackest scenes of vice they crowd the ring,
Blaspheming God, but honouring their king.
Did all the prostitutes for James declare,
Soon were the conquest gain'd without a war:
No change of chiefs could sinking George defend;
For every soldier would the dames befriend.
| Poems on several occasions | |