Songs Set To Music: 2. Set By Mr. Purcell

Whither would my passion run?
Shall I fly her, or pursue her?
Losing her I am undone,
Yet would not gain her to undo her.

Ye tyrants of the human breast,
Love and Reason, cease your war,
And order Death to give me rest,
So each will equal triumph share.

Matthew Prior

Matthew Prior was an English poet and diplomat. He is known for his extensive contributions to poetry during the late 17th and early 18th centuries. Prior's works often blend sharp wit, classical allusions, and a mastery of form. Apart from poetry, he was actively involved in politics and served as a diplomat for the English government. His poetry reflects his broad knowledge and varied experiences.

Matthew Prior

Truth And Falsehood. A Tale

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

Hans Carvel

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

Epitaph Extempore

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

The Question To Lisetta

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

English

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Songs Set To Music: 22. Set By Mr. De Fesch

In vain, alas! poor Strephon tries
To ease his tortured breast,
Since Amoret the cure denies,
And makes his pain a jest.

Ah! fair one, why to me so coy,
And why to him so true?
Who with more coldness slights the joy
Than I with love pursue.

Die, then, unhappy lover, die;
For since she gives thee death,
The world has nothing that can buy
A minute more of breath.

Yet though I could your scorn outlive,
'Twere folly, since to me
Not love itself a joy can give,
But, Amoret, in thee.

Matthew Prior

Songs Set To Music: 14. Set By Mr. Smith

Once I was unconfined and free,
Would I had been so still!
Enjoying sweetest liberty,
And roving at my will.

But now, not master of my heart,
Cupid does so decide,
That two she tyrants shall it part,
And so poor me divide.

Victoria's will I must obey,
She acts without control;
Phillis has such a taking way
She charms my very soul.

Deceived by Phillis' looks and smiles,
Into her snares I run;
Victoria shows me all her wiles,
Which yet I dare not shun.

From one I fancy every kiss
Has something in't divine,
And awful taste the balmy bliss
That joins her lips with mine.

But when with th' other I embrace,
Though she be not a queen,
Methinks 'tis sweet with such a lass
To tumble on the green.

Matthew Prior

Songs Set To Music: 9. Set By Mr. De Fesch

Is it, O love, thy want of eyes,
Or by the Fates decreed,
That hearts so seldom sympathise,
Or for each other bleed?

If thou wouldst make two youthful hearts
One amorous shaft obey,
'Twould save thee the expense of darts,
And more extend thy sway.

Forbear, alas! thus to destroy
Thyself, thy growing power,
For that which would be stretch'd by joy
Despair will soon devour.

Ah! wound then my relentless fair,
For thy own sake and mine,
That boundless may be my share,
And double glory thine.

Matthew Prior

Songs Set To Music: 15. Set By Mr. De Fesch

Farewell, Amynta, we must part;
The charm has lost its power
Which held so fast my captived heart
Until this fatal hour.

Hadst thou not thus my love abused,
And used me ne'er so ill,
Thy cruelty I had excused,
And I had loved thee still.

But know, my soul disdain'd thy sway,
And scorns thy charms and thee,
To which each fluttering coxcomb may
As welcome be as me.

Think in what perfect bliss you reign'd,
How loved before thy fall,
And now, alas! how much disdain'd
By me, and scorn'd by all.

Yet thinking of each happy hour,
Which I with thee have spent,
So robs my rage of all its power,
That I almost relent.

But pride will never let me bow;
No more thy charms can move;
Yet thou art worth my pity now,

Matthew Prior

Songs Set To Music: 13. Set By Mr. De Fesch

Love! inform thy faithful creature
How to keep his fair one's heart;
Must it be by truth of nature,
Or by poor dissembling art?
Tell the secret, show the wonder,
How we both may gain our ends;
I am lost if we're asunder,
Ever tortured if we're friends.

Matthew Prior

Songs Set To Music: 3. Set By Mr. De Fesch

Strephonetta, why d'ye fly me,
With such rigour in your eyes:
Oh! 'tis cruel to deny me,
Since your charms I so much prize.

But I plainly see the reason
Why in vain I you pursued,
Her to gain 'twas out of season,
Who before the chaplain woo'd.

Matthew Prior