The PRETTY CHAMBERMAID: In Imitation of Ne sit Ancillae tibi amor pudori, &c. of Horace. ODE VI. Christopher Smart Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T42626 K041581.000 Smart, Christopher, 1722-1771. Poems on several occasions: By Christopher Smart, A. M. Fellow of Pembroke-Hall, Cambridge. London printed for the author, by W. Strahan; and sold by J. Newbery, at the Bible and Sun, in St. Paul’s Church-Yard, MDCCLII. 1752 pp. 17-18. [16],230p.,plates; 4⁰.

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The PRETTY CHAMBERMAID : In Imitation of Ne sit Ancillae tibi amor pudori , &c. of Horace . ODE VI . I. COLIN , oh ! cease thy friend to blame , Who entertains a servile flame . Chide not — believe me , 'tis no more Than great Achilles did before , Who nobler , prouder far than he is , Ador'd his chambermaid Briseis . II . The thund'ring Ajax Venus lays In love's inextricable maze . His slave Temessa makes him yield , Now mistress of the sevenfold shield . Atrides with his captive play'd , Who always shar'd the bed she made . III . 'Twas at the ten years siege , when all The Trojans fell in Hector's fall , When Helen rul'd the day and night , And made them love , and made them fight : Each hero kiss'd his maid , and why , Tho' I'm no hero , may not I ? IV . Who knows ? Perhaps Polly may be A piece of ruin'd royalty . She has ( I cannot doubt it ) been The daughter of some mighty queen ; But fate's irremeable doom Has chang'd her sceptre for a broom . V. Ah ! cease to think it — how can she , So generous , charming , fond , and free , So lib'ral of her little store , So heedless of amassing more , Have one drop of plebeian blood , In all the circulating flood ? VI . But you , by carping at my fire , Do but betray your own desire — Howe'er proceed — made tame by years , You'll raise in me no jealous fears . You've not one spark of love alive , For , thanks to heav'n , you're forty-five .