This is a reading text, with no pretense to being a critical edition. The notes are my own.
As some brave admiral, in former war, | ||
Deprived of force, but pressed with courage still, | ||
Two rival fleets appearing from afar, | ||
Crawls to the top of an adjacent hill; | ||
5 | From whence (with thoughts full of concern) he views | |
The wise and daring conduct of the fight, | ||
And each bold action to his mind renews | ||
His present glory, and his past delight; | ||
From his fierce eyes, flashes of rage he throws, | ||
10 | As from black clouds when lightning breaks away, | |
Transported,° thinks himself amidst his foes, | carried away | |
And absent yet enjoys the bloody day; | ||
So when my days of impotence approach, | ||
And I’m by pox° and wine’s unlucky chance, | syphilis | |
15 | Driven from the pleasing billows of debauch,° | sexual excess |
On the dull shore of lazy temperance,° | moderation | |
My pains at last some respite° shall afford, | relief | |
Whilst I behold the battles you maintain, | ||
When fleets of glasses sail about the board, | ||
20 | From whose broadsides volleys of wit shall rain. | |
Nor shall the sight of honourable scars, | ||
Which my too-forward valour did procure,° | obtain | |
Frighten new-listed° soldiers from the wars. | enrolled | |
Past joys have more than paid what I endure. | ||
25 | Should hopeful youths (worth being drunk) prove nice,° | fussy |
And from their fair inviters meanly shrink, | ||
’Twould please the ghost of my departed vice, | ||
If at my counsel they repent and drink. | ||
Or should some cold-complexioned sot° forbid, | drunkard | |
30 | With his dull morals, our night’s brisk alarms, | |
I’ll fire his blood by telling what I did, | ||
When I was strong and able to bear arms. | ||
I’ll tell of whores attacked, their lords at home, | ||
Bawds’° quarters beaten up, and fortress won, | pimps or madams | |
35 | Windows demolished, watches° overcome, | watchmen |
And handsome ills by my contrivance° done. | plots | |
Nor shall our love-fits, Cloris,° be forgot, | a typical lover’s name in poetry | |
When each the well-looked link-boy° strove t’enjoy, | boy who lights the streets | |
And the best kiss was the deciding lot:° | outcome of chance | |
40 | Whether the boy fucked you, or I the boy. | |
With tales like these I will such heat inspire, | ||
As to important mischief shall incline. | ||
I’ll make them long° some ancient church to fire, | desire | |
And fear no lewdness they’re called to by wine. | ||
45 | Thus statesman-like, I’ll saucily impose, | |
And safe from danger valiantly advise, | ||
Sheltered in impotence, urge you to blows, | ||
And being good for nothing else, be wise. |