Classic Poem

By Mr. Brown .

Whether we Mortals love or no,
'Tis the same Case whate'er we do.
For Love does killing Pleasure give,
And without Love 'tis Death to Live:
If then to love, so painful be,
And not to love be Misery,
What a sad Case must he be in,
Who has disgrac'd and jilted been?
Banish'd for ever from those Eyes,
Which conquer Fools, and fool the Wise,
And none but Stoicks can despise?
They conquer, but they will not yield,
Love knows no such unequal Field:
Eat in Love's gentle Fight
Both Conquer, when they both submit.
Sometimes the better to perswade,
I call in Heraldry to my Aid:
I'speak my Sire's and Grandsire's Praise,
Tell her how Brave, how Good he was:
Then magnify my self, and say,
How Wife, how Witty, and how Gay
I am, and (as the times go now)
How constant, and how sober too:
But she, instead of this, demands
What Stock, what Money, Sir? what Lands?
Shepherds and Clowns inherit Life,
Do you e'er think to get a Wife?
Because your Dad was born before ye,
That, Sir, is but an idle Story.
Tho' Men be witty, wise or gay,
Fools may love as well as they:
Wit will not please at Night, nor profit in the Day.
Curse on the Money, wou'd he were
Sunk beyond Hell to languish there,
Condemn'd to everlasting Chains,
Where the rich Miser Pluto reigns.
Who first call'd Counters Happiness,
What an improper thing is this?
That Money is th' common Cause of Strife,
The Common Barrater of Life,
Sets Brethern into mortal Fray,
Makes Children Parents disobey,
Makes Wars and Staughters to abound,
Where Peace, and Joy, before were found;
And which is worst of all, it does
Loves gentle Votaries abuse,
It does to Love it's pow'rful Aids deny,
Whilst, for want of it, the Lovers dye.