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MARGARITA first possessid,
If I remember well, my breast,
Margarita, first of all;
But when awhile the wanton maid
With my restless heart had play'd,
Martha took the flying ball.
Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.
Beauteous Catharine gave place (Tho' loth and angry she to part With the possession of my heart)
To Eliza's conquering face.
Eliza to this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta'en :
Fundamental laws slie broke,
And still new favourites she chose,
Till up in arms my passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.
Mary then, and gentle Ann,
Both to reign at once began,
Alternately they sway'd ;
And sometimes Mary was the fair,
And sometimes Ann the crown did wear,
And sometimes both I obey'd.
Another Mary then arose,
And did rigorous laws impose;
A mighty tyrant she !
Long, alas, should I have been,
Under that iron-scepter'd queen,
Had not Rebecca set me free.
When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden time for me,
But soon those pleasures fled : For the gracious princess died, In her youth and beauty's pride,
And Judith reigned in her stead,
One month, three days, and half an hour, Judith held the sov'reign pow'r,
Wondrous beautiful her face;
But so weak and small her wit,
That she to govern was unfit,
And so Susannah took her place.
But when Isabella came,
Arm'd with a resistless flame,
And th' artillery of her eye;
While she proudly march'd about
Greater conquests to find out,
She beat out Susan by the bye.
But in her place I then obey'd
Black-ey'd Bess, her viceroy maid,
To whom ensued a vacancy ; Thousand worse passions then possess'd The interregnum of my breast;
Bless me from such an anarchy!
Gentle Henrietta then,
And a third Mary next began;
Then Joan, and Jane, and Andria,
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Catharine,
And then a long et cætera.
But should I now to you relate
The strength and riches of their state,
The powder, patches, and the pins,
The ribands, jewels, and the rings,
The lace, the paint, and warlike things,
That make up all their magazines :
If I should tell the politic arts
To take and keep men's hearts;
The letters, embassies, and spies,
The frowns, the smiles, and flatteries,
The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,
Numberless, nameless, mysteries !
And all the little lime-twigs laid
By Machiavel, the waiting maid;
I more voluminous should grow
(Chiefly if I, like them, should tell
All change of weather that befel)
Than Holinshed or Stow.
But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me ;
An higher and a nobler strain
My present emperess does claim,
Eleonora, first o' the name,
Whom God grant long to reign.
F mine eyes do e'er declare
They've seen a second thing that's fair,
Or ears, that they have music found,
Besides thy voice, in any sound;
If my taste do ever meet
After thy kiss, with ought that's sweet;
If my busied touch allow
Ought to be smooth, or soft, but thou;
If, what seasonable springs
Or the eastern summer brings,
Do my smell persuade at all;
Ought perfume but thy breath to call;
May I as worthless seem to thee,
As all but thou appear to me.
If I ever anger know,
Till some wrong be done to you;
If ever I a hope admit,
Without thy image stamp'd on it;
Or any fear, till I begin
To find that you 're concern'd therein ;
If a joy e'er come to me,
That tastes of any thing but thee;
If any sorrow touch my mind
Whilst you are well and not unkind;
If I a minute's space debate,
Whether I shall curse or hate
The things beneath thy hatred fall,
Though all the world, myself and all i
If any passion of my heart,
By any force or any art,
Be brought to move one step from thee,
May'st thou no passion have for me.
WELL, then ; I now do plainly see
This busy world and I shall ne'er agree.
The very honey of all earthly joy
Does of all meats the soonest cloy ;
And they, methinks, deserve my pity,
Who for it can endure the stings,
The crowd, and buz, and murmurings,
Of that great hive, the city.
Ah! yet, ere I descend to the grave,
May I a small house and a large garden have;
And a few friends, and many books, both true,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
And (since love ne'er from me will flee),
A mistress, moderately fair,
And good, as guardian angels are;
Only belov'd, and loving me!
How happy here should I
And one dear she, live, and embracing die?
She who is all the world, and can exclude
In deserts solitude.
THE INCONSTANT. I
Never yet could see that face,
Which had no dart for me;
From fifteen years, to fifty's pace,
They all victorious be.
Colour or shape, good limbs, or face,
Goodness, or wit, in all I find ;
In motion or in speech a grace,
If all fail, yet 'tis womankind. If tall, the name of proper slays;
If fair, she's pleasant as the light : If low, her prettiness does please;
If black, what lover loves not night. The fat, like plenty, fills my heart,
The lean, with love, makes me so too; If straight, her body's Cupid's dart;
To me, if crooked, 'tis his bow. Thus, with unwearied wings I flee,
Through all Love's garden and his fields; And, like the wise industrious bee,
No weed but honey to me yields.
I'LL sing of heroes and of kings,
In mighty numbers, mighty things.
Begin, my Muse! but lo! the strings
To my great song rebellious prove;
The strings will sound of nought but love.
I broke them all, and put on new;
'Tis this or nothing sure will do.
These sure (said I) will me obey;
These, sure, heroic notes will play,