English

If you debase the sex to elevate
One of like soul and temper with the rest,
You do but wrong a thousand fervent hearts,
To pay full tribute to one generous breast.

Mercy belongs to us from ancient days —
Yea — when the Human and Divine did part,
God left the boon of pity to the world,
And left it garnered in a woman's heart.

In the old warrior times of feud and fire,
When the fierce world in armour watched and slept,
Maidens, high-hearted, left the sumptuous court,
And with pure hands the sick man's pillow kept.

Archbishop Odo
Was just in the middle of " Dodo",
When he remembered that it was Sunday.
Sic transit gloria mundi.

I AM not cold, my sister, in applause
Of one whose presence honors Queenly guests;
Who wears the noblest jewel of her time,
And leaves her race a nobler, in her name.
I do not swell thy triumphs with a wreath,
Because thy weight of crowns is burthensome;
And that which henceforth least can be thy need
Is human praise, the cordial of weak hearts.
But, lest my silence should dispraise myself,
I'll help its meaning with a parable.

A scene is present to my mind, intense
With all the joys the lyric drama gives;

Deare eye, which daig'nst on this sad monument
The sable scroule of my mishaps to view,
Though with the mourning Muses' teares besprent,
And darkly drawne, which is not fain'd, but true,
If thou not dazell'd with a heauenly hue,
And comely feature, did'st not yet lament,
But happie liu'st vnto thy self content,
O let not loue thee to his lawes subdue.
Looke on the wofull shipwracke of my youth,
And let my ruines for a Phare thee serue,
To shunne this rocke Capharean of vntrueth,
And serue no god who doth his church-men sterue:

The wind was hush'd, the fleecy wave
Scarcely the vessel's sides could lave,
When in the mizen top his stand
Tom Clueline taking, spied the land.

Oh what reward for all his toil!
Once more he views his native soil,
Once more he thanks indulgent fate,
That brings him to his bonny Kate.

II.

Soft as the sighs of Zephyr flow,
Tender and plaintive as her woe,
Serene was the attentive eve,
That heard Tom's bonny Kitty grieve.

You restlesse seas, appease your roaring waues,
And you who raise hudge mountaines in that plaine,
Aire's trumpeters, your blustring stormes restraine,
And listen to the plaints my griefe doth cause.
Eternall lights, though adamantine lawes
Of destinies to mooue still you ordaine,
Turne hitherward your eyes, your axetree pause,
And wonder at the torments I sustaine.
Earth, if thou bee not dull'd by my disgrace,
And senselesse made, now aske those powers aboue,
Why they so crost a wretch brought on thy face,

How much I love thee girl would'st know,
Better than rosin loves the bow,
Than treble shrill the growling bass,
Or spruce guitars a tawdry case.

No more then let us solo play,
To Hymen's temple jig away,
There when we get,
In a duet,
Of pleasure will we take our swing,
Joy's fiddle shall play,
Love's bells shall ring:
And while we celebrate the day,
We'll frisk away,
And laugh and play,
And dance and sing,
And frisk away like any thing.

II.

I love thee more, I really think,

Love to the tender; peace to those who mourn;
Hope to the hopeless, hope that does not fail,
Whose symbol is the anchor, not the sail;
Glory that spreads to heaven's remotest bourn,
And to its centre doth again return
Like music; health revisiting the frail;
Freedom to those who pine in dungeons pale;
Sorrows which God hath willed and Christ hath worn!
Omnipotence to be the poor man's shield;
Light, uncreated light, to cheer the blind;
Infinite mercy sent to heal and bind

Alas where shall I comfort find?
My peace is gone, distressed my mind,
My heart beats high,
I know not why,
Poor heart! ah me, ah me!
So tender, artless, and so young,
I listen'd to his flatt'ring tongue,
Nor did I e'er
Suspect a snare
From one who went to sea.

For sailors kind and honest are,
They injured virtue make their care,
One, only one, did e'er depart
From that prov'd rule, and he,
Ah me!
Was born to break my simple heart.

Alas, &c.

‘Ow!’ screamed Beverley Nichols.
‘Take it away! It tickles!
You know I simply can't bear
An earwig loose in my hair.’