. Lyrics from a library . 12 A. JOHN CLEVELAND, POET-CAVALIER He was a fearless fighting man, This handsome anti-Puritan Who smote with pen and eke with sword Against the bluff Cromwellian horde. Disciple deft of Doctor Donne, Had kindlier fate but shone upon His curls, in cut so cavalier, Delightful ditties to endear His name adown the years might ring For mans perennial pleasuring. Alack-a-day! It might not be! For he, of his Latinity So proud, so fain of his conceits Beside the Cams elm-bowered retreats, From haven was swept fast and far, And under grim Wars sanguine star Was rudely tossed
. Lyrics from a library . 12 A. JOHN CLEVELAND, POET-CAVALIER He was a fearless fighting man, This handsome anti-Puritan Who smote with pen and eke with sword Against the bluff Cromwellian horde. Disciple deft of Doctor Donne, Had kindlier fate but shone upon His curls, in cut so cavalier, Delightful ditties to endear His name adown the years might ring For mans perennial pleasuring. Alack-a-day! It might not be! For he, of his Latinity So proud, so fain of his conceits Beside the Cams elm-bowered retreats, From haven was swept fast and far, And under grim Wars sanguine star Was rudely tossed and racked and swirled, Then pent within a prison-world, And finally flung forth too spent To long fight lifes vexed argument. You know him not? Have hardly heardHis lightest claim to fame averred?Well, tis but flotsam, that may beThe all he left somehow in the strokes he dealtOld Noll (I pledge he raised a welt!)
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidlyricsfromli, bookyear1913
