To a Lady: In a Letter. a Song
Such perfect Bliss, fair Chloris, weIn our Enjoyment prove:'Tis pity restless JealousieShould 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 designA 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,Its Pleasure can repeat as fast,As I the Joys of Wine.
There's not a brisk insipid Spark,That flutters in the Town:But with your wanton Eyes you markHim out to be your own.
Nor do you think it worth your Care,How empty, and how dull,The Head of your Admirers are,So that their Veins 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.
Words in this poem
- repine v. i.
- To fail; to wane. [Pref. re- + pine to languish.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To a Lady: In a Letter. a Song is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Works of the Right Honourable John, Earl of Rochester Consisting of Satires, Songs, Translations, and other Occasional Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #44891; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Wilmot Rochester, To a Lady: In a Letter. a Song, in The Works of the Earl of Rochester (1680), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #44891, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/rochester-works/to-a-lady-in-a-letter-a-song.html, id L09182.
Form and metre
To a Lady: In a Letter. a Song is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. The commonest rhyme scheme is ABAB, in 3 of the 7 stanzas; the rest vary or could not be confirmed. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.1 syllables. 14% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in common measure.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-A we · proveA · jealousie · loveA
- 2 ABAB howA · topB · allowA · fopB
- 3 ABAB designA · charmsB · wineA · armsB
- 5 A-A- sparkA · town · markA · own
- 7 ABAB confessA · disagreeB · lessA · meB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against common measure. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Such perfect Bliss, fair Chloris, we | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| In our Enjoyment prove: | 7 | ·/˘˘/˘· |
| 'Tis pity restless Jealousie | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Should mingle with our Love. | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| Let us, since Wit has taught us how, | 8 | ········ |
| Raise Pleasure to the top: | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| You rival Bottle must allow, | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| I'll suffer rival Fop. | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| Think not in this that I design | 8 | ······˘/ |
| A Treason 'gainst Love's Charms, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| When following the God of Wine, | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| I leave my Chloris Arms. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Since you have that, for all your Haste, | 8 | ········ |
| At which I'll ne'er repine, | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Its Pleasure can repeat as fast, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| As I the Joys of Wine. | 6 | ······ |
| There's not a brisk insipid Spark, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| That flutters in the Town: | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| But with your wanton Eyes you mark | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Him out to be your own. | 6 | ······ |
| Nor do you think it worth your Care, | 8 | ········ |
| How empty, and how dull, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| The Head of your Admirers are, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| So that their Veins be full. | 6 | ······ |
| All this you freely may confess, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Yet we ne'er disagree: | 6 | ···˘˘/ |
| For did you love your Pleasure less, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| You were no Match for me. | 6 | ······ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.