Farewell to London poem – Alexander Pope

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period

Dear, damn’d distracting town, farewell!

Thy fools no more I’ll tease:

This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,

Ye harlots, sleep at ease!

Soft B– and rough C–s adieu,

Earl Warwick made your moan,

The lively H–k and you

May knock up whores alone.

To drink and droll be Rowe allow’d

Till the third watchman’s toll;

Let Jervas gratis paint, and Frowde

Save three-pence and his soul.

Farewell, Arbuthnot’s raillery

On every learned sot;

And Garth, the best good Christian he,

Although he knows it not.

Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go;

Farewell, unhappy Tonson!

Heaven gives thee for thy loss of Rowe,

Lean Philips, and fat Johnson.

Why should I stay? Both parties rage;

My vixen mistress squalls;

The wits in envious feuds engage:

And Homer (damn him!) calls.

The love of arts lies cold and dead

In Halifax’s urn:

And not one Muse of all he fed

Has yet the grace to mourn.

My friends, by turns, my friends confound,

Betray, and are betrayed:

Poor Y–r’s sold for fifty pound,

And B–ll is a jade.

Why make I friendships with the great,

When I no favour seek?

Or follow girls, seven hours in eight?

I us’d but once a week.

Still idle, with a busy air,

Deep whimsies to contrive;

The gayest valetudinaire,

Most thinking rake, alive.

Solicitous for others’ ends,

Though fond of dear repose;

Careless or drowsy with my friends,

And frolic with my foes.

Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell,

For sober, studious days!

And Burlington’s delicious meal,

For salads, tarts, and pease!

Adieu to all, but Gay alone,

Whose soul, sincere and free,

Loves all mankind, but flatters none,

And so may starve with me.

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Poems in English 

• I Heard You, Solemn-sweet Pipes of the Organ. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
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• I Hear America Singing. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• I Dream’d in a Dream. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• I am He that Aches with Love. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Hush’d be the Camps To-day. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• How Solemn as One by One. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Hours Continuing Long. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Here the Frailest Leaves of Me. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Here, Sailor. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Hast Never Come to Thee an Hour. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Great are the Myths. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Gods. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Gliding Over All. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Germs. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Full of Life, Now. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• From Paumanok Starting. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• From My Last Years. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• From Far Dakota’s Cañons. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman

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