Matthew Prior Poems

In sullen Humour one Day Jove
Sent Hermes down to Ida's Grove,
Commanding Cupid to deliver
His Store of Darts, his total Quiver;
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In one great
now
, superior to an age,
The full extremes of nature's force we find:
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I know that Fortune long has wanted sight,
And therefore pardon'd when she did not right;
But yet till then it never did appear
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Wiessen and nature held a long contest
If she created or he painted best;
With pleasing thought the wondrous combat grew,
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See, whilst Thou weep'st, fair Cloe, see
The World in Sympathy with Thee.
The chearful Birds no longer sing,
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Well, I will never more complain,
Or call the Fates unkind;
Alas! how fond it is, how vain!
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Recit.
Beneath a verdant laurel's ample shade
His lyre to mournful numbers strung,
Horace, immortal bard supinely laid,
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I sing not old Jason who travell'd through Greece
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What can I say? What Arguments can prove
My Truth? What Colors can describe my Love?
If it's Excess and Fury be not known,
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When Nell, given o'er by the doctor, was dying,
And John at the chimney stood decently crying,
'Tis in vain said the woman to make such ado,
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