The Request

I’AVE often wish’d to love; what shall I do?

Me still the cruel boy does spare;

And I a double task must bear,

First to woo him, and then a mistress too.

Come at last and strike, for shame,

If thou art any thing besides a name;

I’ll think thee else no God to be,

But poets rather Gods, who first created thee.

I ask not one in whom all beauties grow;

Let me but love, whate’er she be,

She cannot seem deform’d to me;

And I would have her seem to others so.

Desire takes wings and straight does fly,

It stays not dully to inquire the Why.

That happy thing, a lover, grown,

I shall not see with others’ eyes, scarce with mine own.

If she be coy, and scorn my noble fire;

If her chill heart I cannot move;

Why I’ll enjoy the very love,

And make a mistress of my own desire.

Flames their most vigorous heat do hold,

And purest light, if compass’d round with cold:

So, when sharp winter means most harm,

The springing plants are by the snow itself kept warm.

But do not touch my heart, and so be gone;

Strike deep thy burning arrows in!

Lukewarmness I account a sin,

As great in love as in religion.

Come arm’d with flames; for I would prove

All the extremities of mighty Love.

Th’ excess of heat is but a fable;

We know the torrid zone is now found habitable.

Among the woods and forests thou art found,

There boars and lions thou dost tame;

Is not my heart a nobler game?

Let Venus, men; and beasts, Diana, wound!

Thou dost the birds thy subjects make;

Thy nimble feathers do their wings o’ertake:

Thou all the spring their songs dost hear;

Make me love too, I’ll sing to’ thee all the year!

What service can mute fishes do to thee?

Yet against them thy dart prevails,

Piercing the armour of their scales;

And still thy sea-born mother lives i’th’ sea.

Dost thou deny only to me

The no-great privilege of captivity?

I beg or challenge here thy bow;

Either thy pity to me, or else thine anger, show.

Come! or I ‘ll teach the world to scorn that bow:

I’ll teach them thousand wholesome arts

Both to resist and cure thy darts,

More than thy skilful Ovid e’er did know.

Musick of sighs thou shalt not hear,

Nor drink one wretched lover’s tasteful tear:

Nay, unless soon thou woundest me,

My verses shall not only wound, but murder, thee.

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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 

• Robert Burns: Written By Somebody On The Window Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.: Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Miss Ferrier: Enclosing the Elegy on Sir J. H. Blair. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Impromptu On Carron Iron Works: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Elegy On The Death Of Sir James Hunter Blair: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On The Death Of John M’Leod, Esq,: Brother to a young Lady, a particular friend of the Author’s. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram To Miss Jean Scott: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Bard At Inverary: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Elegy On “Stella”: The following poem is the work of some hapless son of the Muses who deserved a better fate. There is a great deal of “The voice of Cona” in his solitary, mournful notes; and had the sentiments been clothed in Shenstone’s language, they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet.-R.B. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Burlesque Lament For The Absence Of William Creech, Publisher: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church: Who was looking up the text during sermon. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To Wm. Tytler, Esq., Of Woodhouselee: With an Impression of the Author’s Portrait. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Hey, Ca’ Thro’ – Boat song: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph For Mr. William Michie: Schoolmaster of Cleish Parish, Fifeshire. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph For William Nicol, Of The High School, Edinburgh: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lines Written Under The Picture Of The Celebrated Miss Burns: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Bottle And Friend: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Elphinstone’s Translation Of Martial’s Epigrams: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Book-Worms: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram Addressed To An Artist: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram At Roslin Inn: by Robert Burns

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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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