Poem by George Crabbe

Parody on [Byrom's] “My Time, Oh Ye Muses”

        [Woodbridge, about 1774.]

My days, oh ye lovers, were happily sped
Ere you or your whimsies got into my head;
I could laugh, I could sing, I could trifle and jest,
And my heart play'd a regular tune in my breast.
But now, lack-a-day! what a change for the worse,
'Tis as heavy as lead, yet as wild as a horse.

My fingers, ere love had tormented my mind,
Could guide my pen gently to what I design'd.
I could make an enigma, a rebus, or riddle,
Or tell a short tale of a dog and a fiddle.
But, since this vile Cupid has got in my brain,
I beg of the gods to assist in my strain.
And whatever my subject, the fancy still roves,
And sings of hearts, raptures, flames, sorrows, and loves.

1. The Learning of Love
2. The Wish
3. Ye Gentle Gales
4. Mira
5. Hymn

Print

1639 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version