The Earl's Poetry Thread

[The Poetic Protégée]

Poems in this thread:
1. A Song...
2. Love and Life
3. The Mistress: A Song
4. Part of a poem about the country
5. To a Lady in a letter
6. Against Constancy

It may be a challenge to find some Lord Rochester poetry that's PG-13 appropriate but it's not impossible . He really was a very gifted poet. Some of these he may well have written to his wife while he was away in London and she in the country (those of you who have seen the film will know what I'm talking about).

I shall post more of his poems here but here's a few to start with.

A Song...

Absent from thee I languish still;
Then ask me not, when I return?
The straying fool 'twill plainly kill
To wish all day, all night to mourn.

Dear! from thine arms then let me fly,
That my fantastic mind may prove
The torments it deserves to try
That tears my fixed heart from my love.

When, wearied with a world of woe,
To thy safe bosom I retire
where love and peace and truth does flow,
May I contented there expire,

Lest, once more wandering from that heaven,
I fall on some base heart unblest,
Faithless to thee, false, unforgiven,
And lose my everlasting rest.

Love and Life

All my past life is mine no more;
The flying hours are gone,
Like transitory dreams given o’er
Whose images are kept in store
By memory alone.

Whatever is to come is not:
How can it then be mine?
The present moment’s all my lot,
And that, as fast as it is got,
Phyllis, is wholly thine.

Then talk not of inconstancy,
False hearts, and broken vows;
If I, by miracle, can be
This lifelong minute true to thee,
‘Tis all that heaven allows.

[The Rolling Rooster]

(I love A Song )

The Mistress: A Song

An age in her embraces passed
Would seem a winter's day;
When life and light, with envious haste,
Are torn and snatched away.

But, oh! how slowly minutes roll.
When absent from her eyes
That feed my love, which is my soul,
It languishes and dies.

For then no more a soul but shade
It mournfully does move
And haunts my breast, by absence made
The living tomb of love.

You wiser men despise me not,
Whose love-sick fancy raves
On shades of souls and Heaven knows what;
Short ages live in graves.

Whene'er those woundng eyes, so full
Of sweetness, you did see,
Had you not been profoundly dull,
You had gone mad like me.

Nor censure us, you who perceive
My best beloved and me
Sign and lament, complain and grieve;
You think we disagree.

Alas, 'tis sacred jealousy,
Love raised to an extreme;
The only proof 'twixt her and me,
We love, and do not dream.

Fantastic fancies fondly move
And in frail joys believe,
Taking false pleasure for true love;
But pain can ne'er deceive.

Kind jealous doubts, tormenting fears,
And anxious cares when past,
Prove our heart's treasure fixed and dear,
And make us blessed at last.

[The Poetic Protégée]

That is a beautiful poem. Thanks Roo

I just found out he wrote the first poem, in my first post, to his wife. It's always so interesting to read poems and find out when they were written and why, it's such an insight into another person's mind.

[The Eternal Optimist]

Very Nice Earl! Please continue. ;D

[The Poetic Protégée]

So glad you like it, Starfire

Here's part of a poem the Earl wrote about the country:

Dear solitary groves, where peace does dwell,
Sweet harbours of pure love and innocence!
How willingly could I forever stay
Beneath the shade of your embracing greens,
Listening to harmony of warbling birds,
Turned with the gentle murmer of the streams.

[The Rolling Rooster]

I can relate to that!

To a Lady in a Letter

(final version) spring 1676

Such perfect bliss, fair Chloris, we
In our enjoyments prove,
'Tis pity restless jealousy
Should mingle with our love

Let us, since wit has taught us how,
Raise pleasure to the top:
You rival bottle must allow,
I'll suffer rival fop.

Think not in this that I design
A treason 'gainst love's charms,
When, following the god of wine,
I leave my Chloris' arms,

Since you have that, for all your haste
(At which I'll ne'er repine),
Will take its liquor off as fast
As I can take off mine.

There's not a brisk, insipid spark
That flutters in the town,
But with your wanton eyes you mark
Him out to be your own;

Nor do you think it worth your care
How empty and how dull
The heads of your admirers are,
So that their cods be full.

All this you freely may confess,
Yet we ne'er disagree,
For did you love your pleasure less,
You were no match for me.

Whilst I, my pleasure to pursue,
Whole nights am taking in
The lusty juice of grapes, take you
The juice of lusty men.

[Angevin]

Wow. What a poet. Now I want to see the movie even more! Lol. No but, really. What a legend. #bow# That last poem particulary got to me.

I'm going to save all of those in a word document. Thanks so much. That's actually the first time I've read his stuff. I never thought I would be very interested, but with all the rave about it, I had to check it out. It's it's great.

av xox

[The Poetic Protégée]

That's great! I'm so pleased we could introduce you to his work ;D I think you get more from the film if you know a little about the Earl beforehand. I have copies of his poems around my room, some of them are so beautiful.

It's about time I found some more to put in this thread actually. I'll work on it.

[The Rolling Rooster]

(Jay, you can delete this.. just a suggestion I am thinking maybe in the top post we should make a list of all of the poems posted, because I have a ton more I could put up, but don't want to duplicate. I'm easily confused, what can I say )

[The Poetic Protégée]

Sounds fantastic to me, Roo. I'll do it right now

[The Rolling Rooster]

(Awesome, thanks Jay )

Against Constancy

Tell me no more of constancy,
The frivolous pretense
Of cold age, narrow jealousy,
Desease, and want of sense.

Let duller fools, on whom kind chance
some easy heart has thrown,
Despairing higher to advance,
Be kind to one alone.

Old men and weak, whose idle flame
Their own defects discovers,
Since changing can but spread their shame,
Ought to be constant lovers.

But we, whose hearts do justly swell
With no vainglorious pride,
Who know how we in love excel,
Long to be often tried.

Then bring my bath, and strew my bed,
As each kind night returns;
I'll change a mistress till I'm dead-
And fate change me to worms.

[The Poetic Protégée]

Ah, the cynic of his age....no better captured than in that poem Thank you, Roo.

[The Rolling Rooster]

31 Poems

The link above has 31 of Rochester's poems ;D

I cannot pick a favourite

[The Poetic Protégée]

Thanks Roo! I have zero time right now but needless to say I shall be back to read as soon as I can ;D

You're such a star

[The Dependable Deliverer]

I bought the complete poems of John Wilmot last week > Click!.
I haven't properly looked through it yet.. but i can't wait to!