Posts Tagged ‘Sixth Earl of Harrington’

The Boots, Part Two!

July 20, 2017

Here is the next installment of poetry generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  Check back tomorrow for the conclusion to this poem.  Enjoy!

The Boots (Part 2)

 

‘Twas thus he told his amorous pain,
But all he said was spoke in vain;
For Judith, without frown or smle,
Stood listening to him all the while;
But when she saw that he was done,
She laughed aloud, and thus begun.

“Indeed, my friend, thou art deceived,
“If thou hast foolishly believed,
“Because that I was young and gay,
“And passed the time in mirth away;
“That therefore I was lewdly given,
“And did not fear the wrath of Heaven:
“My friend, thou art mistaken quite,
“For though in laughing I delight,
“I am not that abandoned fool,
“As ever to swerve from Virtue’s rule:
“I still shall laugh, and still be gay,
“And spite of all that thou can’st say,
“Shall lead an honest virtuous life,
“And be Ezekiel’s faithful wife:
“Although he is long past his youth,
“Believe me, friend, I speak the truth.”

The captain sighed at what she spoke,
Yet hoped the fair one was in joke;
But, to his grief, he found it true,
She never more complaisant grew;
And, though a thousand ways he tried,
Her virtue, was as oft denied:
‘Till, quite overcome with discontent,
One day he to the country went,
And with him took dog, gun, and net,
In hopes he might his love forget;
But while that Judith was unkind,
He could no sport or pleasure find;
so gave his tackle to his groom,
And straight returned to his room;
Where being come, he saw a sight,
That filled his soul with great delight;
‘Twas lovely Judith all alone,
Who, for a frolic, had put on
His winter boots; when this he spied,
The happy youth in raptures cried,
“You’re mine;” and, without more ado,
Upon the bed the charmer threw,
The lucky minute now was come,
Surprise had struck poor Judith dumb;
Upon the bed she speechless lay,
And let the captain take his way;
But what he did I do not know,
Ezekiel, who was set below,
Hearing the noise upon the floor,
Ran up, and, peeping through the door,
Beheld four legs upon the bed,
One pair in boots, and one in red,
Away he ran down stairs in haste,
As if by twenty devils chased:
The loving couple heard the noise,
And Judith knew her cuckold’s voice;
Away the fatal boots she threw,
Kissed the dear captain, and withdrew.
She found Ezekiel in the hall,
And feared he had discovered all.
Poor man, he shook from head to foot,
And muttered something of a boot;
While Judith trembled at his look,
Yet happily the cause mistook.

The captain too, came down the stair,
To see an end of this affair:
But old Ezekiel cried — “Avant!
“Out of my house, vile miscreant!
“You spoke of whoredom with despite,
“Yet arty thyself a Sodomite,
“And did that deed with a dragoon,
“That brought down fire on Sodom town:
“I saw the boots, too much I saw,
“Thy life if forfeit by the law;
“but if thou’lt leave this house to-day,
“Of what I’ve seen I’ll nothing say.”
The captain swore ’twas a mistake,
“I’m not,” said he, “so great a rake,
“I had a swimming in my head,
“That made me lie upon the bed;
:And, if you will go up the stair,
“You’ll find the boots still lying there.”

Away the wife and Ezekiel went,
He found the boots, and was content.

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Boots, Part One!

July 19, 2017

Here is the next installment of poetry generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  Check back tomorrow for the conclusion to this poem.  Enjoy!

The Boots (Part 1)

Think not, my friend, you love in vain,
Though Chloe treats you with disdain;
Nay, though she frowns at all you say,
And, scornful, turns her head away:
Yet let not that disturb your mind,
The fair one may at least be kind:
For there’s in love one happy hour,
In which few women have the power
To cross a wanton inclination,
Or struggle with the strong temptation:
But if the lucky minute’s lost,
You never can a conquest boast.

I know the truth of what I say,
I’ve let that minute slip away;
Long time I waited, but in vain,
It never more came back again:
But I in love affairs was raw,
And of the fair one stood in awe:
I thought her chaste as turtle-dove,
For I confess I was in love;
And freely own it, to my shame,
That it was I who was to blame;
As she has oftentimes confessed,
And of my folly made a jest.
But men are wiser grown of late,
And real love is gone out of date;
Few know the soft respectful passion,
While lewdness is become the fashion;
Seducing widows, maidens, wives,
Is all the pleasure of the lives;
And though they find the fair one shy,
And what they ask with scorn deny;
Yet they do not their suit give over,
Resistance but inflames them more:
And though at first their projects fail,
They think with patience to prevail:
The lucky minute watch with care,
And hoe at last to gain the fair.

Such men as these, I just confess,
Both meet with and deserve success:That perseverance will prevail,
I shall illustrate by a tale.

A handsome captain, young and gay,
With some dragoons at Limerick lay,
And with a quaker quartered there,
whose wife was to a wonder fair:
The captain viewed her with surprise,
Admired her features, shape, and eyes:
She seemed so formed to give delight,
That, quite transported with the sight,
He scarcely could conceal the flame,
Raised in his bosom by the dame.

The quaker knew his wife was fair,
And did not far advance in years,
He was not free from jealous fears;
Since Judith, spite of all her dress,
Was full of love and wantonness:
Was ever smiling, always gay,
Yet she had never gone astray;
But what she had not done, she might, —
This kept Ezekiel in a fright.

The captain, though exceeding young,
Had wit and a deluding tongue;
whenever he with Ezekiel sat,
He still complained of this and that,
And seemed to be so very nice,
He scarce could pardon any vice;
Regretting all the crying crimes,
That were so frequent in our times:
At drunkenness he loudly railed,
And swearing that too much prevailed,
Against uncleanness much inveighed
And gravely said he was a maid.
Thus did he talk, in hopes to gain
Ezekiel’s favor, but in vain;
The quaker was not apt to bite,
But thought him a young hypocrite,
And always was upon his guard,
Nor for his cant a farthing cared.

But, when with Judith left alone,
The youthful captain changed his tone;
He talked of love, of flames, and darts,
Of killing eyes, and wounded hearts:
And, falling down upon his knees,
Did on her slender fingers seize;”
And swore that he would die of grief,
If she denied him kind relief.

To be continued tomorrow . . .

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

Small Print!

June 19, 2017

Here is the next installment of poetry generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  Enjoy!

Small Print

I knew a judge, alas the day!
Death took the honest man away;
He was my true, my steady friend,
And so continued to the end:
Though old, he had a deal of wit,
Whole days we would together sit;
Together sup, together dine,
Sometimes drink arrack, sometimes wine.
Pen, ink, and paper still was by,
For oft we did the rhyming try;
Our lines were from ill-nature free,
This made us never disagree.

One day, when wearied on the bench,
He to the tavern went to quench
His raging thirst; I met him there,
And while he did the bowl prepare,
I from my pocket gravely drew
A verse that was entirely new.
On this he took his glasses out,
And straightway clapped them cross his snout,
But thought it would not be amiss,
Ere he began, to go and p—–,
The careless waiter had forgot
To set down a clean chamber-pot,
So to the door the honest judge
Did, without once complaining trudge,
But thoughtlessly (as I suppose)
Still kept the glasses on his nose.

While thus employed, a maid came by,
And did his dwarfish member spy;
But, much offended with the sight,
Cried out, “Your honor’s in the right,
“With spectacles, perhaps, you’ll see,
“What otherwise would hidden be;
“For me, I vow to God, I’d squint,
“If I were put to read such print.”

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Raven, Part Two!

May 21, 2017

Here is the finishing part of the poem “The Raven,” generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  Enjoy!

The Raven (Part 2)

Poor Sally trembled for her eyes,
She knew papa would tell no lies,
Yet she was sure she could not keep
(If she sat down) her eyes from sleep;
So to the field she weeping went,
Oppressed with grief and discontent;
But, ere that she had walked a mile,
The changeling thought upon a wile
To save her eyes from all mishap,
Yet get a comfortable nap.

Upon her back she laid her down,
Pulled up her petticoat and gown,
Her milk-white smock and apron blue,
All these quite over her heat she threw,
To guard her eyes (her greatest care)
She left her other members bare.

As thus she lay upon the plain,
Chance brought that way a youthful swain,
Who, quite astonished at the sight,
Viewed Sally’s limbs with great delight;
That it was Sally well he knew,
Both by her gown and apron blue;
He long had loved the charming maid,
But of her folly was afraid,
And could not think to pass his life,
With such a silly simple wife.
Oft he had met the beauteous dame,
As oft had whispered her his flame,
Had leered upon her, squeezed her hand,
Yet could not make her understand
His meaning, other being by,
And wanted opportunity;
Now, seeing how the fair one lay,
He could no longer bear delay,
Nor wait to gaze upon her charms,
But rushed at once into her arms.

The idiot waked with great surprise,
And thought the raven picked her eyes,
But when she found that theyt were safe,
The silly fool began to laugh;
Nor did she in the least complain,
Although he put her to some pain;
But, stammering, said, “You graceless bird,
“And while you nibble at that part,
“You’re welcome to it with all my heart;
“Although you had a longer beak:
“I own it is of monstrous size,
“But yet too short to reach my eyes.”

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Raven, Part One!

May 20, 2017

Here is the next installment of poetry generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  Enjoy!

The Raven (Part 1)

In Wiltshire, where the farmers keep
Upon the downs great flocks of sheep,
There dwelt an honest thrifty swain,
Adjoining to the famous plain
Of Salisbury, and it was there
He grazed and fed his woolly care.

To him his teeming female bore
Eight sons, and daughters have a score;
And if that children blessings be,
None in the shire so blessed ashe:
Whilst he, a foe to idleness,
To make their charge in breeding less,
In something useful did employ
Each prating girl and forward boy:
And thus he lived a happy life,
Pleased with his children and his wife,
Until his wealth made noise, and then
His sons got farms, his daughters men.

Yet Sally, at her father’s stayed,
And though fifteen, was still a maid,
Lovely as what was ever beheld,
And all her sisters far excelled,
In shape and face, but then her mind
Was of a very different kind:
No sort of work could Sally do,
She silly was, an nothing knew.

Her father grieved, but ’twas in vain,
He sent her out upon the plain,
With scrip and bottle by her side,
In hopes that she at least might guide
His fleecy care, his much loved  sheep,
But still the fair one fell asleep:
The flock went wandering here and there,
Sure proof of Sally’s want of care.

The father chid the drowsy dame,
She wept, but next day ’twas the same;
She could not guard her eyes from sleep,
And every week she lost a sheep.
The father fretted, Sally cried,
A thousand different ways he tried,
To make her careful, but in vain,
She slept and slumbered on the plain.
At last he gravely told the maid,
If she slept thus, he was afraid,
The ravens, as they soared about,
Her eyes some day would nibble out.

Continued tomorrow . . .

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Tooth-Drawer, Part Two!

April 14, 2016

Here is the continuation of “The Tooth-Drawer” generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  The first part of this poem poem was posted yesterday.  Enjoy!

The Tooth-Drawer (Part 2)

. . . continued from Part 1 one which was posted yesterday.

Though Kitty was overjoyed at this,
She took his coldness much amiss;
She thought her beauty might inspire
Old age itself with strong desire;
But since he had her charms despoised,
And that a single kiss sufficed,
She meant no more to lose her time,
But use her beauty in her prime;
The surgeon should her wants supply,
And rifle her virginity.
“No more,” said she, “shall Dick complain,
“That he has loved me but in vain;
“To-morrow shall his triumph see,
“When he may take revenge on me;”
This resolution eased her breast,
And she sunk down to quiet rest.

The aged person rose by day,
He kissed his fair one, and away,
Who for her much-loved Richard sent,
He came and gave her great content;
Her virgin fort with vigor stormed,
And, lover-like, his part performed:
Nor did he stay to toy and kiss,
But sought for more substantial bliss;
While Kitty did his love commend,
And wished the rapture never might end.

But short, alas! are all our joys,
Our greatest pleasure soonest cloys;
As, to her grief, poor Kitty knew,
Her rampant lover weary grew,
He kissed, but could no farther go;
This filler her loving breast with woe,
And, deeply sighing, looked with sorrow:
“Dear Dick,” said she, “come back to-morrow.”

Next day, and Richard with it, came,
And gave great pleasure to the dame.

While thus they did their time employ,
And pass their hours in love and joy,
The husband in his closet stayed,
Never dreaming of the pranks they played,
But was overjoyed to find his wife,
So easy in her state of life,
She showed no heat nor youthful fire,
But, free from lust and loose desire,
Slept well at night, and in the day
Was never vexed, but always gay:
This made him lead a happy life,
And in his soul admire his wife.

One day the doctor did intend
To ride some miles to see a friend:
Kitty complained that she had got
An inflammation in her throat,
And that she meant to draw a tooth
That gave her pain, and spoiled her mouth,
And that the torture would undo her
Unless she sent the surgeon to her.
Away he went, the surgeon came,
And in his arms he took the dame:
Down on the bed the lovers lie,
Never thinking that a child was by;
To love they fell with all their might,
And in the pastime took delight:
Oft he was vanquished in her arms;
But Kitty had so many charms,
That, with a long tongue-touching kiss,
She roused him to renew the bliss.
Thus, winged with joy, their moments flew,
Till love almost insipid grew:
Away the languid lover went,
And she was for that time content.

Back to the house the parson came,
To see his poor afflicted dame:
The first he met with was his boy,
His favorite and greatest joy!
“Twas he who in the room was hid,
And saw what Kate and Richard did.
“Tell me,” said he, “my little life,
“How is it with my dearest wife?”
“Did Richard come and pull her tooth?”
“Yes,” said the boy, “and on my truth.
“It was both long, and large, and white:
“I vow it put me in a fright:
“I wish it do mamma no harm,
“For ’twas almost as long as my arm.”

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Tooth-Drawer, Part One!

April 13, 2016

Here is the next installment of poetry generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  This particular poem will be continued with the second and final part tomorrow.  Enjoy!

The Tooth-Drawer (Part 1)

 

A parson’s wife, young, fair, and gay,
Soon wearied of her husband’s way;
For all night by her side he snored,
And all day on his volumes pored;
He did not relish wedlock joys,
He had already girls and boys,
That his first wife, good woman, bore,
And thrifty man, he wished no more;
His present wife some money brought,
And that was all the parson sought.

The doctor was a saving man,
And, ere he married last, began
To think he little had to spare,
And children would increase his care
And his expenses; but he thought,
If that a fair one could be brought
To live in quiet, day and night,
And never ask conjugal delight,
Her portion would his wealth increase,
And he might all night sleep in peace.
Full well he knew that he was old,
Yet he had heard some maids were cold,
Who passed their days with great discretion,
Nor cared for love nor copulation.
If so, he’d be in happy case,
Thus, full of faith, heaven-pleasing grace,
He ventured on the charming maid,
And was not of her youth afraid;
While she, reluctant to his suit,
With horror viewed the feeble brute;
She loathed his age, abhorred his figure,
And in his looks read want of vigor,
Her beauty now was in its bud,
And she foresaw her youthful blood
An abler doctor would require,
To cool its heat and quench its fire;
Add to all this that long ere now,
She in her heart had made a vow,
To wed a surgeon, who in truth,
Was handsome, and a clever youth.
But parents, upon lucre bent,
Do seldom mind their child’s content;
And, careless of their future ease,
Even make them wed whom ever they please.

The truth of this fair Kitty tried,
She sighed, she kneeled, she prayed, she cried;
And begged they would their Kitty save
From age, diseases, and the grave;
For surely they would be her fate,
If married to that horrid mate,
Who was made up of ails and years;
Then backed her speech with floods of tears.
But all was vain that Kitty said,
Her parents’ needs would be obeyed;
They knew full well the priest was rich,
And wealth their senses did bewitch.
Thus to their cursed avarice,
Poor Kitty fell a sacrifice.

The wedding-night arrived at last,
The red-faced curate made them fast;
To bed the mourning fair one went,
Overwhelmed with grief and discontent:
The doctor laid him by her side,
(Unequal match for such a bride),
The wedded pair were left alone,
While Kitty did her fate bemoan.
Crossed in her love, and, what was worse,
Condemned for life to be a nurse
To one she hated.  Wretched maid!
But, most of all, she was afraid
Lest he should take her in his arms,
And try to rifle all her charms:
This dreadful thought she could not bear,
But  vain in this was Kitty’s fear;
The bridegroom was not so disposed,
He kissed the bride, and then composed
His aged limbs to wished-for rest,
And for no other favor pressed . . .

. . .  to be continued tomorrow.

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Dream, Part Two!

March 12, 2016

Here is the continuation of “The Dream” generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  The first part of this poem poem was posted yesterday.  Enjoy!

The Dream (Part 2)

. . . continued from Part 1 one which was posted yesterday.

Though retched poor, it raised his pride
To look upon his lovely bride;
For, troth, to give the slut her due,
Leah was young and lovely too;
But soon she did some freedom take,
Made Edward’s heart and forehead ache;
For in the camp she often went,
To see the captain in his tent.

On this poor Ned held down his head,
He thought enough, but nothing said;
With care and jealousy oppressed,
He lost his stomach and his rest:
He watcher her actions all the day,
And in his arms she nightly lay:
Three men lay in the tent beside
Our soldier and his wanton bride;
But he, to make the matter sure,
And Leah from all harm secure,
And his own cuckoldom prevent,
Made her lie inmost in the tent.

Ned, with his caution pleased, began
To think himself a cunning man:
But men who take the greatest care,
The fate of others often share.

Ye husbands, be assured of this,
Whenever your wives incline to kiss,
They’ll do it spite of all your skill,
And cuckold you whenever they will:
So when they mean to go astray,
In God’s name let them have their way,
With Leah this was just the case,
Though lying nightly, face to face,
With cautious Edward, yet her spark
Came slyly to her in the dark,
And from the tent stole out a pin,
Then slipped part of his body in,
Attacking Leah in the rear,
Though in her arms she held her dear.

Thus did she pass in joy the night,
And gave the captain great delight:
Her happy Edward’s heart was free
From any kind of jealousy:
For Leah grew sedate and grave,
And like a matron did behave;
Yet thus her nights in love employed,
Nor was the loving captain cloyed.

But they were once in mighty fear;
For as the lover left the rear,
Quite satisfied with amorous joys,
The husband waked, and heard the noise;
And, turning to the other side,
Blind fortune did his fingers guide
On what to Leah gave delight,
And made him cuckold every night:
The captain quickly left the tent,
And to his own in silence went.

But Edward’s heart began to ache,
Till his chaste Leah seemed to wake,
Who, to avoid domestic strife,
Thus artfully began: — “My life,
“I’ve had a dream so very odd,
“I wish it may no mischief bode;
“I dreamed a dog was in the tent,
“Who to my buttocks straightway went,
“And licked about a certain part;
“The fright had waked me in a start;
“Did you ever hear a dream so odd?”
“It was,” said he, “No dream, by G-d;
“For I profess to you, my dear,
“The saucy cur was just now here;
“For in my hand his tongue I got,
“And would have torn it from his throat
“For licking at the place he did.
“But that it through my fingers slid.”

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Dream, Part One!

March 11, 2016

Here is the next installment of poetry generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  This particular poem will be continued with the second and final part tomorrow.  Enjoy!

The Dream (Part 1)

Why man, that makes a just pretence
To understanding and to sense,
Should choose to live in care and strife,
And sell himself a slave for life,
When every creature else, but he,
Enjoys the sweets of liberty,
Is what I never could pretend
To understand, or comprehend.

The wiser brutes, when they’re inclined
To increase and multiply their kind,
Indulge in lust, but when it’s over,
Continue free as heretofore;
But only man, for love or pelf,
In wedlock fetters, ties himself.

It’s said the storks and turtle-doves
Are ever faithful in their loves;
Yet I believe that none, or few,
Can vouch this story to be true:
But, for avoiding all disputes,
I’ll own the folly to some brutes,
While there are thousands on our side,
Who follow Nature for their guide.

We’re told, that, when the world was new,
Of human kind there were but two;
Those to each other were confined,
They could not change had they inclined;
But, when the race of man increased,
That custom, with its reason, ceased;
To stock the world more wives they took,
And joyless constancy forsook:
Nor did the saints this practice shun,
Heaven’s chosen David, and his son,
Of wives and whores had so great store,
And so much love to women bore;
That, it is left us on record,
For women they forsook the Lord.

But now the world draws near its end,
Such doings would in kings offend:
One wife is all the law allows:
And if he wearies of his spouse,
And in his bosom feels a flame,
Raised by a fairer, brighter dame;
Nay, though, he’s ravished with her charms,
And she consents to bless his arms;
Yet, spite of all his power and wealth,
He must enjoy the fair by stealth;
Nay, bribe her high: kings may do this,
And give a province for  a kiss.

But why a man, whose highest pay
Doth no exceed a groat a-day,
Should knowingly disturb his life,
And take the burden of a wife,
To swallow up the half he has,
Doth very far my skill surpass:
Yet such the folly of mankind,
That what I say you’ll often find
Is certain truth.  Upon a time,
A lusty fellow, for the crime
Of breaking orchards, stealing fruit,
Was sent away for a recruit.
He scarce could live upon his pay,
Which was but fourpence every day;
Poor was his food, and weak his drink,
But small incitements, one would think,
To love or lust; yet, thoughtless sot,
He chose to live on half a groat;
For to a strump, one luckless day,
He gave his heart and hand away;
And, though he little had to spare,
He gave her twopence to her share. . . .

. . .  to be continued tomorrow.

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of Mia treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

The Ink Bottle, Part Two!

June 18, 2015

Here is the conclusion of this poem continued from yesterday.

The Ink Bottle

But Nan, a young and wanton whore,  . 

Enlarged the cranny at the door,
And said,”Heaven guard us all from evil,
“An angel battles with the devil;
“But I my maidenhead will lay
“The little angel gains the day;
“Though Satan wrestles to a wonder,
“And strives to keep the angel under,
“Yet you shall see, mark what I tell ye,
“The angel ride on Satan’s belly.”

And troth the little slut had skill,
For in a moment he lay still,
And then sunk down by Ruth her side,
Who presently got up to ride;
Kick how he could she still held fast,
And got the victory at last;
Yet Ruth declared that never man
Was like her charming African,
And begged he would come back next day,
For she had something more to say.

In these diversions honest Ruth,
Employed her person and her youth
While Robin plyed his gray goose wing,
And never dreamed of such a thing.
But Ruth continued at this sport,
Until her petticoats grew short;
This gave great jolly to silly Robin,
Who thought that by his weekly jobbing,
He in his wife had raised this tumor,
Which put him in a merry humor.

But when a sooty boy crept out,
The witless fool began to doubt,
And all in rage he said to Ruth,
“Delilah, now confess the truth;
“Come, all thy wicked dealings tell,
“Make haste, thou cursed Jezebel.”
Ruth smiling on his said, “My dear,
“Why do I such harsh language hear?
“My virtue is well known to you,
“I have ever been chaste and true,
“And hoped that this my little boy,
“That gave me grief, would give you joy.”

“Yes, so it would,” he said in wrath,
“But Impudence, I have not faith
“To think when you and I are fair,
“That we should have a tawny heir.”

Ruth raised her voice and said, “You sot,
“You drunken beast, have you forgot,
“Nine months ago, oppressed with drink,
“You spilled at least a quart of ink
“Full on your breast, it stained your skin?
“But you were in a merry pin,
“And laid me down, then thrust it in!
“That gave my babe that dusky hue.
“Pox rot your for a nasty brute,
“Who did your milk-white wife pollute,”

This answer gave him joy and life,
He kissed the boy, and hugged his wife.

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of a treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).