Each gloried in their wanton part, To make a lover, he Employ'd the utmost of his art, Though now I slowly bend to love If your fair self my chains approve, Lovers, like dying men, may well Since none alive can truly tell What Fortune they must see. [From "the Mulberry Garden, a Comedy written by the Honourable Sir Charles Sidley," 4to. 1668. This Song is commonly printed as the production of "the Right Honourable Duncan Forbes, Lord President of the Court of Session, and composed in 1710." See Motherwell's Ancient Minstrelsy, p. 65; and another Editor adds that these "tender and pathetic stanzas were addressed to Miss Mary Rose, the elegant accomplished daughter of Hugh Rose, Esq. of Kilravock, whom he afterwards married!" Ritson commences his Collection of English Songs with Sedley's verses, both Ritson and Park were ignorant of their Author, and Mr. Chambers, in his Scotish Songs, starts with it as a genuine production of old Scotland! Johnson's Musical Museum it is directed to be sung to the tune of Gilderoy. The two last verses are not in the other versions. Forbes was born in 1685, seventeen years after the appearance of Sedley's comedy.] In TO CELIA. SIR CHARLES SEDLEY. Not, Celia, that I juster am Or better than the rest; For I would change each hour like them, But I am tied to very thee All that in woman is ador'd, For the whole sex can but afford Why then should I seek farther store, And still make love anew? When change itself can give no more, 'Tis easy to be true! TO THYRSIS. SIR CHARLES SEDLEY. Thyrsis, unjustly you complain, By secret and mysterious springs, You may be handsome and have wit, Be secret and well bred, The person loved must be as fit, Some die, yet never are believed; COME CHLORIS. Come, Chloris, hie we to the bower, And if a flower but chance to die With my sighs blast or mine eyes rain, Thou canst revive it with thine eye, And with thy breath make sweet again. The wanton suckling, and the vine, [From "The Academy of Compliments," 1671.] CONSTANCY. JOHN WILMOT, LORD ROCHESTER. Born 1648-Died 1680. I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn: Since that poor swain who sighs for you For you alone was born. No, Phillis, no, your heart to move, And to revenge my slighted love, When killed with grief, Amyntas lies; And you to mind shall call The sighs that now unpitied rise, The tears that vainly fall: That welcome hour that ends this smart, Will then begin your pain; For such a faithful tender heart Can never break in vain. [The Songs of the celebrated Lord Rochester, are his only writings free from indecency. Horace Walpole happily characterised his verse as having "much more obscenity than wit, more wit than poetry, more poetry than politeness."] AN IMITATION OF CORNELIUS GALLUS. JOHN WILMOT, LORD ROCHESTER. My Goddess Lydia, heavenly fair, Let loose thy tresses, spread thy charms, O let me gaze on those bright eyes, Give me ambrosia in a kiss, O hide thy bosom's killing white, Why draws't thou from the purple flood FROM ANACREON. JOHN WILMOT, LORD ROCHESTER. Vulcan, contrive me such a cup Make it so large, that, fill'd with sack Engrave not battle on his cheek, I'm none of those that took Maestrich, |