The Given Love

I’LL on; for what should hinder me

From loving and enjoying thee?

Thou canst not those exceptions make,

Which vulgar, sordid mortals take-

That my fate’s too mean and low;

‘T were pity I should love thee so,

If that dull cause could hinder me

In loving and enjoying thee.

It does not me a whit displease,

That the rich all honours seize;

That you all titles make your own,

Are valiant, learned, wise, alone:

But, if you claim o’er women too

The power which over men ye do;

If you alone must lovers be;

For that, Sirs, you must pardon me.

Rather than lose what does so near

Concern my life and being here,

I’ll some such crooked ways invent,

As you, or your forefathers, went:

I’ll flatter or oppose the king,

Turn Puritan, or any thing;

I’ll force my mind to arts so new:

Grow rich, and love as well as you.

But rather thus let me remain,

As man in paradise did reign;

When perfect love did so agree

With innocence and poverty,

Adam did no jointure give;

Himself was jointure to his Eve:

Untouch’d with avarice yet, or pride,

The rib came freely back t’ his side.

A curse upon the man who taught

Women, that love was to be bought!

Rather dote only on your gold,

And that with greedy avarice hold;

For, if woman too submit

To that, and sell herself for it,

Fond lover! you a mistress have

Of her that’s but your fellow-slave.

What should those poets mean of old

That made their God to woo in gold?

Of all men, sure, they had no cause

To bind love to such costly laws;

And yet I scarcely blame them now;

For who, alas! would not allow,

That women should such gifts receive,

Could they, as he, be what they give?

If thou, my dear, thyself shouldst prize,

Alas! what value would suffice?

The Spaniard could not do’t, though he

Should to both Indies jointure thee.

Thy beauties therefore wrong will take,

If thou shouldst any bargain make;

To give all, will befit thee well;

But not at under-rates to sell.

Bestow thy beauty then on me,

Freely, as nature gave’t to thee;

‘T is an exploded popish thought

To think that heaven may be bought.

Prayers, hymns, and praises, are the way,

And those my thankful Muse shall pay:

Thy body, in my verse enshrin’d,

Shall grow immortal as thy mind.

I’ll fix thy title next in fame

To Sacharissa’s well-sung name.

So faithfully will I declare

What all thy wondrous beauties are,

That when, at the last great assize,

All women shall together rise,

Men straight shall cast their eyes on thee

And know at first that thou art she.

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External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

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Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Stepping Westward by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Star-Gazers by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Stanzas by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Stanzas Written In My Pocket Copy Of Thomson’s “Castle Of Indolence” by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Spanish Guerillas by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Sonnet: On seeing Miss Helen Maria Williams weep at a tale of distress by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Sonnet: “It is not to be thought of” by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Song Of The Wandering Jew by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Song Of The Spinning Wheel by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Simon Lee: The Old Huntsman by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Siege Of Vienna Raised By Jihn Sobieski by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• She Was A Phantom Of Delight by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• September, 1819 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• September 1815 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• September 1, 1802 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Scorn Not The Sonnet by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Say, What Is Honour?–‘Tis The Finest Sense by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Ruth by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Rural Architecture by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth

More external links (open in a new tab):

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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.

 

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