John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester (April 1, 1647–July 26, 1680) was an English libertine, a friend of King Charles II, and the writer of much satirical and bawdy poetry. He was the toast of the Restoration court and a patron of the arts. He married an heiress, Elizabeth Malet, but had many mistresses, including the actress Elizabeth Barry. Rochester was born in Ditchley, Oxfordshire. His mother Anne St. John, Countess of Rochester was a Royalist by descent and a staunch Anglican. His father Henry Wilmot, a hard-drinking Royalist from Anglo-Irish stock, had been named Earl of Rochester in 1652 for military services to Charles II during his exile under the Commonwealth; he died abroad in 1658, two years before the restoration of the monarchy in England. At age twelve, Rochester matriculated at Wadham College, Oxford, and there, it is said, "grew debauched".[1] At fourteen he was conferred with the degree of M.A. by Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, who was Chancellor to the University and Rochester's uncle. After carrying out a Grand Tour of France and Italy, Rochester returned to London, where he graced the Restoration court. Later, his courage in a sea-battle against the Dutch made him a hero.
the marigold
When with a serious musing I behold
The grateful and obsequious marigold,
How duly, ev'ry ...[read poem]
The grateful and obsequious marigold,
How duly, ev'ry ...
shall i wasting in despair
Shall I wasting in despair
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care...[read poem]
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care...
madeira, m'dear
She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen...[read poem]
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen...
a song of the weather
January brings the snow
Makes your feet and fingers glow
February's Ice and sleet
Fre...[read poem]
Makes your feet and fingers glow
February's Ice and sleet
Fre...
constancy
I cannot change, as others do,
Though you unjustly scorn;
Since that poor swain,...[read poem]
Though you unjustly scorn;
Since that poor swain,...
a song of a young lady to her ancient lover
Ancient Person, for whom I
All the flattering youth defy,
Long be it e'er thou grow old,...[read poem]
All the flattering youth defy,
Long be it e'er thou grow old,...
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