Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OF THE WARS IN IRELAND, by JOHN HARRINGTON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

OF THE WARS IN IRELAND, by                 Poet's Biography
First Line: I praise the speech, but cannot now abide it
Last Line: I shall forever love my home the better.
Alternate Author Name(s): Harington, John
Subject(s): Ireland; War; Irish


I PRAISED the speech, but cannot now abide it,
That warre is sweet to those that have not try'd
it;
For I have proved it now and plainly see 't,
It is so sweet, it maketh all things sweet.
At home Canaric wines and Greek grow lothsome;
Here milk is nectar, water tasteth toothsome.
There without baked, rost, boyl'd, it is no cheere;
Bisket we like, and Bonny Clabo here.
here we complain of one wan roasted chick;
ere meat worse cookt ne're makes us sick.
t home in silken sparrers, beds of Down,
e scant can rest, but still tosse up and down;
ere we can sleep, a saddle to our pillow,
hedge the Curtaine, Canopy a Willow.
here if a child but cry, O what a spite!
ere we can brook three larums in one night.
here homely rooms must be perfumed with
Roses;
ere match and powder ne're offend our noses.
here from a storm of rain we run like Pullets;
ere we stand fast against a shower of bullets.
o, then how greatly their opinions erre,
hat think there is no great delight in warre;
But yet for this, sweet warre, Ile be thy debtor,
I shall forever love my home the better.




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