Poeta de Tristibus; Or, The Poet's ComplaintAnonymous
General
Poeta de Tristibus; Or, The Poet's Complaint
Anonymous
Complaint poetry, English
_Phoebus!_ art thou the God of Wit,
Yet takest no more care of it?
Because thou art invok'd by us,
Must we be damn'd and tortur'd thus?
And art resolv'd, lean Poverty
Shall still thy Badge and Liv'ry be?
As well, let Paper-Mills, and all
The lousie Tribe of Begger's Hall,
With the ragged Gipsie-Crue,
Be Dedicated to thee too!
All the _Muses_ ask thee why
Thou 'dopt'st 'em to such Slavery!
And suffer'st ev'ry Fop in Town, }
For to insult and trample on }
These rad'ent Di'dems of thy Crown!}
Sure thou want'st _Pow'r_ to Rule below;
For 'tis not _Policy_ to do so.
No! _Kings_ their Greatness do secure
By their _Subjects_ Wealth and Pow'r.
Nay, th' _Gods_ may lose their Deities,
If their Religious _Votaries_
Do so Poor and Needy grow,
That they want _Victims_ to bestow.
But Wit will above all things cease,
Deny'd the helps of Wealth and Ease.
It must be cherish'd and kept warm;
Which, like the _Halcyon_, hates a Storm.
But since I find I am us'd so,
And treated worse than _Turk_ or _Jew_:
Since the Tinker and his Trull
Strut it with their Bellies full:
Since the Cobler and the Sweep-Chimney
Live happier and more safe than me,
I'll quit thy Service, great _Apollo_,
And some new Vocation follow:
And tear thy _Idea's_ from my Brain,
With thy starv'd, wretched Female Train.
But must I from thy Service go
Naked, in mid'st of Winter too?
Did I for this a year, or more,
Thy Airy, empty Shrine adore?
Are thus my Cares and Watchings pay'd?
The thousand Vows and Pray'rs I made?
The Lights which on thy Altar shone,
When thou wert forc'd to hide thy own?
Think how ost thou hast me espy'd
Walking by such a Rivers side!
When I saw thy shining Beam
Gild the smooth Surface of the Stream,
Thou know'st I did thy Image greet,
And sang a thousand Hymns to it.
But since I find I am thus serv'd,
Rent and torn, and almost starv'd,
Yet would'st thou have me longer stay
To expect a fairer Day?
Should I be couzen'd to do so,
And again my Vows renew,
My Case would never better'd be }
Under thy Conduct, no, tho' I }
Should share in th' Immortality.}
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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