Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE HECTORS, UPON THE UNFORTUNATE DEATH UPON THE DEATH H. COMPTON, by JOHN CLEVELAND


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE HECTORS, UPON THE UNFORTUNATE DEATH UPON THE DEATH H. COMPTON, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: You hectors! Tame professors of the sword
Last Line: Both are repented of as soon as done.
Subject(s): Compton, Henry (d. 1652); Duels


YOU Hectors! tame professors of the sword,
Who in the chair state duels, whose black word
Bewitches courage, and like Devils too,
Leaves the bewitch'd when't comes to fight and do.
Who on your errand our best spirits send,
Not to kill swine or cows, but man and friend;
Who are a whole court-martial in your drink,
And dispute honour, when you cannot think,
Not orderly, but prate out valour as
You grow inspired by th' oracle of the glass;
Then, like our zeal-drunk presbyters, cry down
All law of Kings and God, but what's their own.
Then y' have the gift of fighting, can discern
Spirits, who's fit to act, and who to learn,
Who shall be baffled next, who must be beat,
Who killed -- that you may drink, and swear, and eat.
Whilst you applaud those murders which you teach
And live upon the wounds your riots preach.
Mere booty-souls! Who bid us fight a prize
To feast the laughter of our enemies,
Who shout and clap at wounds, count it pure gain,
Mere Providence to hear a Compton's slain.
A name they dearly hate, and justly; should
They love't 'twere worse, their love would taint the blood.
Blood always true, true as their swords and cause,
And never vainly lost, till your wild laws
Scandalled their actions in this person, who
Truly durst more than you dare think to do.
A man made up of graces -- every move
Had entertainment in it, and drew love
From all but him who killed him, who seeks a grave
And fears a death more shameful than he gave.
Now you dread Hectors! you whom tyrant drink
Drags thrice about the town, what do you think?
(If you be sober) Is it valour, say,
To overcome, and then to run away?
Fie! Fie! your lusts and duels both are one;
Both are repented of as soon as done.





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