Matthew Prior (1664 – 1721)
English poet and diplomat.
All jargon of the schools.
Nobles and heralds, by your leave,
Here lies what once was Matthew Prior;
The son of Adam and of Eve:
Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher?
Be to her virtues very kind;
Be to her faults a little blind;
Let all her ways be unconfined;
And clap your padlock — on her mind!
From ignorance our comfort flows.
The only wretched are the wise.
For hope is but the dream of those that wake.
Be to her virtues very kind;
Be to her faults a little blind.
That if weak women went astray,
Their stars were more in fault than they.
The end must justify the means.
Forbear to mention what thou canst not praise.
To John I owed great obligation;
But John, unhappily, thought fit
To publish it to all the nation:
Sure John and I are more than quit.
Till their own dreams at length decive 'em,
And oft repeating, they believe 'em.
Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim
At objects in an airy height;
The little pleasure of the game
Is from afar to view the flight.
He ranged his tropes, and preached up patience;
Backed his opinion with quotations.
Who breathes must suffer, and who thinks must mourn;
And he alone is bless'd who ne'er was born.
Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart,
And often took leave, but was loth to depart.
Cured yesterday of my disease,
I died last night of my physician.
That air and harmony of shape express,
Fine by degrees, and beautifully less.
Venus, take my votive glass;
Since I am not what I was,
What from this day I shall be,
Venus, let me never see.
Odds life! must one swear to the truth of a song?
They never taste who always drink;
They always talk who never think.