A BALLAD.
MARGARITA first possest,
If I remember well, my brest,
Margarita first of all;
But when awhile the wanton maid
With my restless heart had play’d,
Martha took the flying ball.
Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.
Beauteous Catharine gave place
(Though loth and angry she to part
With the possession of my heart)
To Eliza’s conquering face.
Eliza till this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta’en.
Fundamental laws she broke,
And still new favorites 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 both I obey’d.
Another Mary then arose
And did rigorous laws impose;
A mighty tyrant she!
Long, alas! should I have been
Under that iron-scepter’d 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 dy’d,
In her youth and beauty’s pride,
And Judith reigned in her stead.
One month, three days, and half an hour,
Judith held the soveraign 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-ey’d Bess, her viceroy-maid;
To whom ensu’d a vacancy:
Thousand worse passions than possest
The interregnum of my breast;
Bless me from such an anarchy!
Gentle Henriette then,
And a third Mary, next began;
Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria;
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Katharine,
And then a long et cætera.
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 Holinshed or Stow.
But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me.
An higher and a nobler strain
My present Emperess does claim,
Heleonora, first o’ th’ name;
Whom God grant long to reign!
A few random poems:
- Light by Rabindranath Tagore
- The Gardener LXIX: I Hunt for the Golden Stag by Rabindranath Tagore
- Early Love
- Kiss by Ruth Padel
- Hey! Mr.Pothole by Vinaya Kumar Hanumanthappa
- An English Breeze by Robert Louis Stevenson
- Under The Round Tower by William Butler Yeats
- The Connaught Rangers by Winifred Mary Letts
- The Garden by Tammy L. Ames
- Rural Architecture by William Wordsworth
- Getting There by Sylvia Plath
- At The Last Watch by Rabindranath Tagore
- Олег Сердобольский – Два кораблика
- Book Review – The Elements of Style by Strunk and White
- Владимир Британишский – Буссоль
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Graydigger’s Home by William Stafford
- For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid by William Stafford
- Atavism by William Stafford
- Ask Me by William Stafford
- Allegiances by William Stafford
- Across Kansas by William Stafford
- A Ritual To Read To Each Other by William Stafford
- Sonnet 127: In the old age black was not counted fair by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 126: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 125: Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 124: If my dear love were but the child of state by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 123: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 121: Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 120: That you were once unkind befriends me now by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 11: As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 119: What potions have I drunk of Siren tears by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 118: Like as to make our appetite more keen by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 117: Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 116: Let me not to the marriage of true minds by William Shakespeare
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works

Abraham Cowley (1618 – 1667), the Royalist Poet.Poet and essayist Abraham Cowley was born in London, England, in 1618. He displayed early talent as a poet, publishing his first collection of poetry, Poetical Blossoms (1633), at the age of 15. Cowley studied at Cambridge University but was stripped of his Cambridge fellowship during the English Civil War and expelled for refusing to sign the Solemn League and Covenant of 1644. In turn, he accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria to France, where he spent 12 years in exile, serving as her secretary. During this time, Cowley completed The Mistress (1647). Arguably his most famous work, the collection exemplifies Cowley’s metaphysical style of love poetry. After the Restoration, Cowley returned to England, where he was reinstated as a Cambridge fellow and earned his MD before finally retiring to the English countryside. He is buried at Westminster Abbey alongside Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser. Cowley is a wonderful poet and an outstanding representative of the English baroque.