Volume Ii Part 59 (1/2)

PIOUS SELINDA

Pious Selinda goes to prayers, If I but ask her favor; And yet the silly fool's in tears If she believes I'll leave her; Would I were free from this restraint, Or else had hopes to win her: Would she could make of me a saint, Or I of her a sinner.

William Congreve [1670-1729]

FAIR HEBE

Fair Hebe I left, with a cautious design To escape from her charms, and to drown them in wine, I tried it; but found, when I came to depart, The wine in my head, and still love in my heart.

I repaired to my Reason, entreated her aid; Who paused on my case and each circ.u.mstance weighed, Then gravely p.r.o.nounced, in return to my prayer, That ”Hebe was fairest of all that was fair!”

”That's a truth,” replied I, ”I've no need to be taught; I came for your counsel to find out a fault.”

”If that's all,” quoth Reason, ”return as you came; To find fault with Hebe, would forfeit my name.”

What hopes then, alas! of relief from my pain, While, like lightning, she darts through each throbbing vein?

My Senses surprised, in her favor took arms; And Reason confirms me a slave to her charms.

John West [1693-1766]

A MAIDEN'S IDEAL OF A HUSBAND From ”The Contrivances”

Genteel in personage, Conduct, and equipage, n.o.ble by heritage, Generous and free: Brave, not romantic; Learned, not pedantic; Frolic, not frantic; This must he be.

Honor maintaining, Meanness disdaining, Still entertaining, Engaging and new.

Neat, but not finical; Sage, but not cynical; Never tyrannical, But ever true.

Henry Carey [?--1743]

”PHILLADA FLOUTS ME”

O what a plague is love!

How shall I bear it?

She will inconstant prove, I greatly fear it.

She so torments my mind That my strength faileth, And wavers with the wind As a s.h.i.+p saileth.

Please her the best I may, She loves still to gainsay; Alack and well-a-day!

Phillada flouts me.

At the fair yesterday She did pa.s.s by me; She looked another way And would not spy me: I wooed her for to dine, But could not get her; Will had her to the wine-- He might entreat her.

With Daniel she did dance, On me she looked askance: O thrice unhappy chance!

Phillada flouts me.

Fair maid, be not so coy, Do not disdain me!