To a Lady who sent me a copy of verses at my going to bed

Henry King 1592 (Worminghall, Buckinghamshire) – 1669 (Chichester)



Lady your art or wit could nere devise
To shame me more then in this nights surprise.
Why I am quite unready, and my eye
Now winking like my candle, doth deny
To guide my hand, if it had ought to write;
Nor can I make my drowsie sense indite
Which by your verses musick (as a spell
Sent from the Sybellean Oracle)
Is charm'd and bound in wonder and delight,
Faster then all the leaden chains of night.
What pity is it then you should so ill
Employ the bounty of your flowing quill,
As to expend on him your bedward thought,
Who can acknowledge that large love in nought
But this lean wish; that fate soon send you those
Who may requite your rhimes with midnight prose?
Mean time, may all delights and pleasing Theams
Like Masquers revell in your Maiden dreams,
Whil'st dull to write, and to do more unmeet,
I, as the night invites me, fall asleep.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

49 sec read
54

Quick analysis:

Scheme AABBCCDECCFFGCHHAICJ
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 855
Words 163
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 20

Henry King

Henry King was an English poet who served as Bishop of Chichester. more…

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