On Six Cambridge Lasses Bathing Themselves

Thomas Randolph

 Next Poem          

When bashfull daylight now was gone
And night, that hides a blush, came on.
Sixe Pretty Nymphes to wash away
The sweatinge of a Summers daye
In Chams fair streames did gently swim
And naked bathd each curious limbe.
O Who had this blist sight but seene
Would thinke they all had Cl{oe}lias beene.
A Scholer that a walke did take
Perchance for Meditation sake.
This blessed Obiect chan'cd to find
Straight all thinges else went out of mind
No Studyes better in this life
For Practicke or Contemplatiue:
Who thought Poore soule these hee had seene,
Fair Dian and her Nymphes had beene.
And therefore thought in piteous feare
Act{ae}ons fortune was too neere.
Or that the WaterNymphes they were
Together met to sport 'um there
And that to him such loue they bore
As to Iolas once before.
What could hee thinke but that his eye
Sixe Venusses at once did spie
Rise from the waues, or that perchaunce
FreshWater Syrens came to dance
Vpon our streames, with songes and lookes
To tempt Poore Scholers from their bookes.
Hee cannot thinke they Graces are
Vnlesse their number doubled were.
Nor can hee thinke they muses bee
Bicause alasse they wanted three.
I should haue rather guess'd that here
Another brood of Helens were
Begot by Ioue upon |y+e+| playnes
Watchd by some L{ae}da of the Swans.
The maydes betrayd were in a fright
And blush'd (but twas not seene ith night.)
At last all by |y+e+| banke did stand
And hee, good harte lent them his hand.
Where twas his blisse to feele all ore
Soft Paps, smooth thighes and somethinge more.
But Enuious Night masqued from his eyes
The place where loue and pleasure lyes.
Guesse Louers guesse, o you |y+t+| dare
What then might bee this Scholers praier
That hee were but a Cat to spye
Or had but now Tyberius eyes.
Yet since this hope was all in Vaine
Hee helpes 'um don there cloths agayne.
Makes Promise thye shall none bee shent
So with them to the Tauerne went.
Where how hee then might sport or play
Pardon mee Muse I must not say
Guesse you that haue a mind to knowe
Whither hee were a Foole of no.

Next Poem 

 Back to Thomas Randolph
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.