Matthew Prior Poems

Sir,
As once a twelvemonth to the priest,
Holy at Rome, here Antichrist,
The Spanish king presents a jennet
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Miss Danae, when Fair and Young
(As Horace has divinely sung)
Could not be kept from Jove's Embrace
By Doors of Steel, and Walls of Brass.
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When hungry wolves had trespass'd on the fold,
And the robb'd shepherd his sad story told,
'Call in Alcides,' said a crafty priest,
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How old may Phyllis be, you ask,
Whose beauty thus all hearts engages?
To answer is no easy task;
For she has really two ages.
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Fire, Water, Woman, are Man's Ruin;
Says wise Professor Vander Bruin.
By Flames a House I hir'd was lost
Last Year: and I must pay the Cost.
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Since hired for life, thy servile Muse must sing
Successive conquests and a glorious King;
Must of a man immortal vainly boast,
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Man! foolish man!
Scarce know'st thou how thyself began,
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When famed Varelst this little wonder drew,
Flora vouchsafed the growing works to view;
Finding the painter's science at a stand,
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Spare, gen'rous victor, spare the slave,
Who did unequal war pursue;
That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.
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The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrowed name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
But Cloe is my real flame.
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