John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647–1680)

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.

The time that 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 only thine.

Then talk not of inconstancy,
False hearts, and broken vows;

If I by miracle can be

His thoughts so tender, and expressed so well:

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With all those moderns, men of steady sense,
Esteemed for learning and for eloquence.
In some of these, as fancy should advise,
I'd always take my morning exercise;
For sure no minutes bring us more content
Than those in pleasing useful studies spent.
I'd have a clear and competent estate,
That I might live genteelly, but not great;
As much as I could moderately spend; 35
A little more, sometimes to oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine
Too much at fortune; they should taste of
mine;

And all that objects of true pity were,
Should be relieved with what my wants

could spare;

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For that our Maker has too largely given Should be returned in gratitude to Heaven. A frugal plenty should my table spread; With healthy, not luxurious, dishes spread; Enough to satisfy, and something more,

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So, but too oft, the grape's refreshing juice
Does many mischievous effects produce.
My house should no rude disorders know,
As from high drinking consequently flow;
Nor would I use what was so kindly given, 65
To the dishonour of indulgent Heaven.
If any neighbour came, he should be free,
Used with respect, and not uneasy be,
In my retreat, or to himself or me.
What freedom, prudence, and right reason
give,

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All men may, with impunity, receive: But the least swerving from their rule's too much;

For what's forbidden us, 't is death to touch. That life may be more comfortable yet, And all my joys refined, sincere, and great; 75 I'd choose two friends, whose company would be

A great advance to my felicity:

Well-born, of humours suited to my own, Discreet, and men as well as books have known;

Brave, generous, witty, and exactly free 80
From loose behaviour, or formality:
Airy and prudent; merry, but not light;
Quick in discerning, and in judgment right:
Secret they should be, faithful to their trust;
In reasoning cool, strong, temperate, and
just;

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Obliging, open, without huffing, brave;
Brisk in gay talking, and in sober, grave:
Close in dispute, but not tenacious; tryed
By solid reason, and let that decide:
Not prone to lust, revenge, or envious
hate;

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Nor busy meddlers with intrigues of state: Strangers to slander, and sworn foes to

spite;

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Not quarrelsome, but stout enough to fight;
Loyal, and pious, friends to Cæsar; true
As dying martyrs to their Maker too.
In their society I could not miss
A permanent, sincere, substantial bliss.
Would bounteous Heaven once more in-
dulge, I'd choose

(For who would so much satisfaction lose
As witty nymphs, in conversation, give?) 100
Near some obliging modest fair to live:
For there's that sweetness in a female mind,
Which in a man's we cannot hope to find;
That, by a secret, but a powerful art,
Winds up the springs of life, and does im-
part

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Fresh vital heat to the transported heart.
I'd have her reason all her passions sway:
Easy in company, in private gay:
Coy to a fop, to the deserving free;
Still-constant to herself, and just to me. 110
A soul she should have for great actions fit;
Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit:
Courage to look bold danger in the face;
No fear, but only to be proud, or base;
Quick to advise, by an emergence prest, 115
To give good counsel, or to take the best.
I'd have the expression of her thoughts be

such,

She might not seem reserved, nor talk too much:

That shows a want of judgment, and of

sense;

More than enough is but impertinence. 120
Her conduct regular, her mirth refined;
Civil to strangers, to her neighbours kind:
Averse to vanity, revenge, and pride;
In all the methods of deceit untryed:
So faithful to her friend, and good to all, 125
No censure might upon her actions fall:
Then would ev'n Envy be compelled to say
She goes the least of womankind astray.

To this fair creature I'd sometimes retire; Her conversation would new joys inspire; 130 Give life an edge so keen, no surly care Would venture to assault my soul, or dare Near my retreat, to hide one secret snare. But so divine, so noble a repast

I'd seldom, and with moderation, taste: 135
For highest cordials all their virtue lose,
By a too frequent and too bold an use;
And what would cheer the spirits in distress,
Ruins our health, when taken to excess.

I'd be concerned in no litigious jar; 140 Beloved by all, not vainly popular. Whate'er assistance I had power to bring T'oblige my country, or to serve my king, Whene'er they call, I'd readily afford

My tongue, my pen, my counsel, or my sword.

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