Hint From Voiture
Let Sol his annual journeys run,
And when the radiant task is done,
Confess, through all the globe, 'twou'd pose him,
To match the charms that Celia shows him.
And should he boast he once had seen
As just a form, as bright a mien,
Yet must it still for ever pose him
To match - what Celia never shows him.
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
On Miss M--'s's Dancing
Of all that gives politeness birth,
Of all that claims to please,
In motion, manners, or in mirth,
The surest source is ease.
With silent step, and graceful air,
See gentle Sylvia move;
Whilst heedless gazers, unaware,
Resign their soul to love.
Accomplish'd maid! my trivial rhyme
Must do thy graces wrong;
Who dost not only dance in time,
But steal, like time, along.
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Invidious
Martial.
O Fortune! if my prayer of old
Was ne'er solicitous for gold,
With better grace thou may'st allow
My suppliant wish, that asks it now:
Yet think not, Goddess! I require it
For the same end your clowns desire it.
In a well made effectual string
Fain would I see Lovidio swing;
Hear him, from Tyburn's height haranguing;
But such a cur's not worth one's hanging.
Give me, O Goddess! store of pelf,
And he will tie the knot himself.
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Song XIII. - Winter
No more, ye warbling birds! rejoice:
Of all that cheer'd the plain,
Echo alone preserves her voice,
And she-repeats my pain.
Where'er my lovesick limbs I lay
To shun the rushing wind,
Its busy murmurs seem to say,
'She never will be kind!'
The Naiads, o'er their frozen urns,
In icy chains repine;
And each in sullen silence mourns
Her freedom lost, like mine!
Soon will the sun's returning rays
The cheerless frost control;
When will relenting Delia chase
The winter of my soul?
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Song II. The Landscape
How pleased within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?
How sweetly smiled the hill, the vale,
And all the landscape round!
The river gliding down the dale,
The hill with beeches crown'd!
But now, when urged by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.
No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see;
That verdant hill and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Extent of Cookery
Aliusque et idem.
(Another and the same).
When Tom to Cambridge first was sent,
A plain brown bob he wore;
Read much, and look'd as though he meant
To be a fop no more.
See him to Lincoln's-Inn repair,
His resolution flag;
He cherishes a length of hair,
And tucks it in a bag.
Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards,
But gets into the House,
And soon a judge's rank rewards
His pliant votes and bows.
Adieu, ye bobs! ye bags! give place;
Full bottoms come instead;
[...] Read more
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Song XII. - O'er desert plains, and rushy meres
O'er desert plains, and rushy meres,
And wither'd heaths I rove;
Where tree, nor spire, nor cot, appears,
I pass to meet my love.
But, though my path were damask'd o'er
With beauties e'er so fine,
My busy thoughts would fly before,
To fix alone-on thine.
No fir-crown'd hills could give delight,
No palace please mine eye;
No pyramid's aerial height,
Where mould'ring monarchs lie.
Unmoved, should Eastern kings advance,
Could I the pageant see:
Splendour might catch one scornful glance,
Nor steal one thought from thee.
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Landskip
How pleas'd within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!
Was ever scene so deck'd with flowers?
Were ever flowers so gay?
How sweetly smil'd the hill, the vale,
And all the landskip round!
The river gliding down the dale!
The hill with beeches crown'd!
But now, when urg'd by tender woes,
I speed to meet my dear,
That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.
No more, since Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I see:
That verdant hill, and silver stream,
Divide my love and me.
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Extent of Cookery
Aliusque et idem.
Explanation.
Another and the Same.
When Tom to Cambridge first was sent,
A plain brown bob he wore;
Read much, and look'd as though he meant
To be a fop no more.
See him to Lincoln's-Inn repair,
His resolution flag;
He cherishes a length of hair,
And tucks it in a bag.
Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards,
But gets into the House,
And soon a judge's rank rewards
His pliant votes and bows.
[...] Read more
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Song XI. - Perhaps it is not love
Perhaps it is not love, said I,
That melts my soul when Flavia's nigh;
Where wit and sense like hers agree,
One may be pleased, and yet be free.
The beauties of her polish'd mind
It needs no lover's eye to find;
The hermit freezing in his cell
Might wish the gentle Flavia well.
It is not love-averse to bear
The servile chain that lovers wear;
Let, let me all my fears remove,
My doubts dispel-it is not love.
Oh! when did wit so brightly shine
In any form less fair than thine?
It is-it is love's subtle fire,
And under friendship lurks desire.
poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!