English

In answer to Mr. Waller's verses to the Author.

When into Libya the young Grecian came,
To talk with Hammon, and consult for fame;
When from the sacred tripod where he stood
The priest, inspir'd, saluted him a god;
Scarce such a joy that haughty victor knew,
Thus own'd by Heav'n, as I, thus prais'd by you.
Whoe'er their names can in thy numbers show
Have more than empire, and immortal grow;
Ages to come shall scorn the pow'rs of old,
When in thy verse of greater gods they 're told;

Thou'st heard those old proverbs, ne'er lean on; rush,
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,
'Tis the money paid down that decides who's the winner,
Who waits upon fortune's ne'er sure of a dinner:

Out of sight out of mind, delaying breeds danger,
He ought to be cozen'd who trusts to a stranger;
Heaven take my friend, and the old one my brother,
Promising's one thing, performing another.

II.

Much may fall out 'twixt the cup and the lip,

There was a rose, that blushing grew
Within my life's young bower;
The angels sprinkled holy dew
Upon the blessed flower.
I glory to resign it, love,
Though it was dear to me;
Amid thy laurels twine it, love,
It only blooms for thee.

There was a rich and radiant gem
I long kept hid from sight;
Lost from some seraph's diadem,
It shone with heaven's own light!
The world could never tear it, love,
That gem of gems, from me;
Yet on thy fond breast wear it, love,
It only shines for thee.

The flower you picked for me that day
Is lying in the book we read,
Its petals pale and fallen away;
The flower is dead, that day is dead,
And our love too has paled and died
And even the memory of it sleeps:
Only the book still keeps
The bloom of life and pride.

Come, courage lads, and drink away,
A man upon his wedding day
Ought rarely well his part to play
 At Stingo, or October:

For, who would be that stupid elf
For whim, caprice, or love, or pels,
To poison, hang, or drown himself,
 Or marry when he's sober.

II.

For madam's will at nothing stops,
She must have balls, and routs, and fops,
And often ransack all the shops,
 In gay attire to robe her:

Then drink the day you take a wife,
As the last comfort of your life:

When a photograph of Attila
Appeared in The Tatler
The Huns were all delighted,
And the editor was knighted.

Tho' train'd in arms, and learn'd in martial arts,
Thou chusest not to conquer men, but hearts;
Expecting nations for thy triumphs wait,
But thou preferr'st the name of Just to Great.
So Jove suspends his subject-world to doom,
Which would he please to thunder he'd consume.
O! could the ghosts of mighty heroes dead
Return on earth, and quit th' Elysian shade,
Brutus to James would trust the people's cause;
Thy justice is a stronger guard than laws:
Marius and Sylla would resign to thee,
Nor Caesar and great Pompey rivals be,

Now let me unknit my life away from yours!
So closely, so tightly,
In so perplexed a pattern are we knitted together:
Stitch with stitch, thread with thread,
Twisted over and under and over —
O seamless!
Though with knives we rend and tear,
Though the garment of our love be utterly destroyed,
We will unknit those strands;
Those intertwining, soft,
Tight-woven fibers that tangle and cling —
Now we will unknit those strands!

I.

Shout brethren for the Lord hath broke
The fatal bands of Pharoah's yoke!
Our souls have left the slavish ground,
And now to Canaan's land are bound.

II.

GOD hath destroy'd by his high hand
Both horse and rider in the sand;
And we with Miriam will sing
All glory to the Hebrew's King.

III.

He still will make our foes to fall
He'll be our Captain, strength and all;
Our Jesus leads us by his hand
For to possess the promis'd land.

IV.

Your love is terrible.
Oh, do not love me so much!
Sometimes there are moments
Fear comes to me because of our love,
That it is a prison about me, holding me in,
That it owns me, owns the separateness of me.

Oh, I am bound down with love!
Like bands about me is our love;
Fastened over my wrists, fastened on my head,
Fastened on my mouth, to stifle;
Catching and holding me, each move and reach;
So that I forget it is love that holds me,
So that I only wish to push it from me,