And still new favourites she chose,
Till up in arms my passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.
Mary then, and gentle Anne
Both to reign at once began;
Alternately they sway'd;
And sometimes Mary was the fair,
And sometimes Anne the crown did wear,
And sometimes I both obey'd.
Another Mary then arose,
And did rigorous laws impose;
A mighty tyrant she!
Long, alas should I have been
Under that iron-sceptred queen,
Had not Rebecca set me free.
When fair Rebecca set me free
'Twas then a golden time with me:
But soon those pleasures fled;
For the gracious princess died,
In her youth and beauty's pride,
And Judith reignèd in her stead.
One month, three days, and half an hour,
Judith held the sovereign power:
Wondrous beautiful her face!
But so weak and small her wit,
That she to govern was unfit,
And so Susanna took her place.
But when Isabella came,
Arm'd with a resistless flame,
And th' artillery of her eye;
Whilst 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-eyed 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 cetera.
But should I now to you relate
The strength and riches of their state;
The powder, patches, and the pins,
The ribbons, 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, and 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 weathers that befell) Than Holinsted or Stow.1
But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me.
An higher and a nobler strain
My present Emperess doth claim,
Heleonora, first o' th' name;
Whom God grant long to reign!
Abraham Cowley.
THE LEARNING OF HUDIBRAS 2
He was in logic a great critic,
Profoundly skilled in analytic;
He could distinguish and divide
A hair 'twixt south and south-west side;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute;
He'd undertake to prove by force
Of argument a man's no horse;
He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl—–
A calf, an alderman-a goose, a justice-
And rooks, committee-men and trustees.
He'd run in debt by dissipation,
And pay by ratiocination :
All this by syllogism, true
In mood and figure, he would do.
2 From Hudibras,' Part i., Canto i.
For rhetoric, he could not ope
His mouth, but out there flew a trope;
And when he happened to break off
I' the middle of his speech, or cough,
H' had hard words, ready to show why,
And tell what rules he did it by:
Else, when with greatest art he spoke,
You'd think he talked like other folk;
For all a rhetorician's rules
Teach nothing but to mind his tools.
But, when he pleased to shew't, his speech
In loftiness of sound was rich;
A Babylonish dialect,
Which learned pedants much affect:
It was a party-coloured dress
Of patched and piebald languages;
'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin;
Like fustian heretofore on satin.
It had an odd promiscuous tone,
As if he had talked three parts in one;
Which made some think, when he did gabble
Th' had heard three labourers of Babel,
Or Cerebus himself pronounce
A leash of languages at once.
THE merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrowed name;
Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
But Chloe is my real flame.
My softest verse, my darling lyre
Upon Euphelia's toilet lay-
When Chloe noted her desire
That I should sing, that I should play.
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my sighs;
And while I sing Euphelia's praise,
I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.
Fair Chloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd:
I sung, and gazed; I play'd and trembled:
And Venus to the Loves around
Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.
ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED
IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES
'Twas on a lofty vase's side
Where China's gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow,
Demurest of the tabby kind
The pensive Selima, reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declared:
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,
Her coat that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes—
She saw, and purr'd applause.
Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the stream:
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