Down, Wanton, Down!

By Robert Graves

Down, wanton, down! Have you no shame

That at the whisper of Love's name,

Or Beauty's, presto! up you raise

Your angry head and stand at gaze?

Poor bombard-captain, sworn to reach

The ravelin and effect a breach—

Indifferent what you storm or why,

So be that in the breach you die!

Love may be blind, but Love at least

Knows what is man and what mere beast;

Or Beauty wayward, but requires

More delicacy from her squires.

Tell me, my witless, whose one boast

Could be your staunchness at the post,

When were you made a man of parts

To think fine and profess the arts?

Will many-gifted Beauty come

Bowing to your bald rule of thumb,

Or Love swear loyalty to your crown?

Be gone, have done! Down, wanton, down!