Poem of the week: Song by Lady Mary Chudleigh

Words of stern moral advice to a besotted young man are delivered with a brisk and even sunny touch

Carol Rumens

26 January 2026

Song

Why, Damon, why, why, why so pressing?
The Heart you beg’s not worth possessing:
Each Look, each Word, each Smile’s affected,
And inward Charms are quite neglected:
Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish Swain,
And sigh no more, no more in vain.

Beauty’s worthless, fading, flying;
Who would for Trifles think of dying?
Who for a Face, a Shape wou’d languish,
And tell the Brooks, and Groves his Anguish,
Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him,
And all, and all beside despise him?

Fix, fix your Thoughts on what’s inviting,
On what will never bear the slighting:
Wit and Virtue claim your Duty,
They’re much more worth than Gold and Beauty:
To them, to them, your Heart resign,
And you’ll no more, no more repine.

The Devon-born poet and essayist Mary Chudleigh, 1656-1710, is rightly thought of as a proto-feminist; see, for example her short poem, To the Ladies, beginning “Wife and servant are the same, / But only differ in the name”. Her prose Essay on Knowledge explores incisively, but with fuller argument, related themes, including the importance of women’s education. In fact, Chudleigh had many things to say on a range of subjects, and it’s rewarding to discover her hard-won scientific knowledge.

Prof Kevin Killeen has written an excellent introduction to her 2,000-line poem The Song of the Three Children, Paraphras’d, which, not without some justification, he has headed Mary Chudleigh’s View of the Entire Universe. A devout Anglican, self-taught in the subjects which were probably her deepest interest, Chudleigh blends her scientific understanding with a rich, biblical narrative, culminating in a praise-song to the “Jewish heroes” Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, the children who, in the Book of Daniel, un-scientifically survived incineration.

In her more sociable and immediate forms of writing, Chudleigh was able to argue a case with admirable clarity. I chose Song this week partly because of its form: enlivened by the repetitions the genre traditionally allows, its rhythms sing freshly from the page. Its critique of artificial femininity is impartial, sympathetic to the generic male it addresses, Damon, and it demonstrates the rational but Christian basis of the writer’s gender politics. It’s not a lecture, though. It has a brisk and even sunny touch.

Chudleigh, it must be admitted, presents the owner of the “Heart” coveted by Damon with uncompromising disapproval. However delightful her “Face” and “Shape” the woman is judged superficial, somewhat confected. What are missing, in Chudleigh’s opinion, are “inward Charms”. These aren’t charms in the usual sense, but qualities of more lasting worth. The poem appeals not only to Damon’s values but to his vanity. If he continues to pursue this undeserving woman so desperately, he will look ridiculous, despised both by those who witness his humiliation, and the heartless woman herself.

As to the nature of the commended “Charms”, we learn two of them, at least, in verse three. It’s interesting that “Wit” as well as “Virtue” is recommended. Wit was a quality Chudleigh herself possessed abundantly – which is not to suggest the Song is a ploy to win Damon for herself. (Chudleigh would never stoop so low.) The word “wit” originally denoted knowledge and understanding and, since Chudleigh makes it the companion of “Virtue” and equally entitled to Damon’s “Duty”, she brings together the original meaning with the narrower one associated with spritely humour.

The poem is didactic in tone, of course, but it clearly has Damon’s happiness in mind as well as his moral instruction. The repetitions are playful – tonally varied and sometimes startling. It’s in the first line that the device is most insistent, and even impatient: “Why, Damon, why, why, why so pressing?” The repeated “no more” later has, perhaps, the cadence of a failed suitor’s sigh. The fifth line of the middle verse cleverly mimics the love object’s dallying and reluctance: “Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him.”

It would be interesting to know more about Chudleigh’s process of composition. Did she write the poem for an existent piece of music, or in anticipation of a new one? Did she write music herself? I’ve hunted unsuccessfully for a recording of the Song with music, but perhaps it’s hiding somewhere in plain sight. If anyone spots it, please provide a link!

 The text used here is from the Poetry Foundationsite where other examples of Chudleigh’s work can be found.

THE GUARDIAN

Jason Reynolds / “Reading rap lyrics made me realise that poetry could be for me”

Jason Reynolds

The 

Books

 0f my 

life

Jason Reynolds: “Reading rap lyrics made me realise that poetry could be for me”

The American YA author on discovering Stephen King, growing into Toni Morrison – and the perfect novel

Jason Reynolds
Friday 12 November 2021

My earliest reading memory
I remember Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are being read to me when I was five, by my kindergarten teacher. There are certain words in that book that stick with you, such as “rumpus” and “mischief”. If I look back on it now I can see it was lighting up certain sensory stimuli in my brain, which means that my love for language was showing itself early.

My favourite book growing up
Books weren’t really my thing as a child. I didn’t read on my own until I was 17 or 18. It just wasn’t my life.

The book that changed me as a teenager
The first one I picked up to read on my own was Black Boy by Richard Wright. It changed me just because it felt familiar. And also the excitement of it starts at the outset. By page two or three the house is on fire. I think it’s always about which book meets you at the right time. It just clicked. And I was off to the races after that.

The book that made me want to be a writer
That’s tricky, because I don’t think it was a book. When I was young, I would go to the music store, and I would buy rap cassettes. And I would open them up and read the liner notes. And reading rap lyrics was the beginning of my entry into writing, because I wanted to be able to do what my favourite rappers were doing. I realised that poetry was something that could be for me, because these rappers were doing it. I still think the poetic devices they were using are completely underrated. So really it was Black Reign by Queen Latifah that began my love for writing.

The book or author I came back to
Toni Morrison. Her work is like a suit that one has to grow into. I first read her books when I was 19, at college, and I didn’t understand a word. But when I was 30, I read Sula, and I thought: “Oh, this is beautiful.”

The book I reread
I read Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward about once a year. I’ve probably read it 15 times. To my palate, it’s the closest thing to a perfect novel.

The book I could never read again
Roxane Gay’s An Untamed State. I couldn’t stomach it twice because so much of it is about sexual violence. But the love story that’s woven into it is brilliantly rendered. I had never read a book that existed at such polar ends of the spectrum, from absolute violence to absolute euphoria – I thought it was genius.

The book I discovered later in life
I read Stephen King’s novella The Body [on which the film Stand By Me was based] recently and it is amazing. It’s so slight – 190 pages. I think the best of us know how to say a whole lot with a few words. And that book is pretty incredible.

The book I am currently reading
Colson Whitehead’s Harlem Shuffle. It’s great. I think it’s hard to argue against the view that he is the best living American male author. He’s consistent – and it feels like he’s still just having a good time. With this novel, he’s saying: “Alright, I did some serious works back to back. Now I’m going to take a turn and do something a little pulpy.” And I think we should all be so lucky to feel that free. Gosh, that’s inspiring to a young writer like myself.

My comfort read
Any of James Baldwin’s books. If you’re black in America, Baldwin is the guy who tells you that you’re right for feeling how you feel. So he’s super comforting for me.

THE GUARDIAN

The dream and hope of the slave

Maya Angelou

The dream and hope of the slave

May 29, 2014 by Roberta Clarke

Maya Angelou lived a long, lovely life, full of daring, accomplishment and acclaim. I did not know that her grandfather was a Trinidadian.

Still I Rise was the first poem in my under-educated literary life that moved me with its direct relevance to my own life  as a descendant of enslaved peoples and perhaps more so, because it so expressed the exuberant defiance which black women need (ed) to leap over sexism and marginalisation. It has that poem of its time resonance,  full of  black feminist power vibes.

Lost and Found: Children’s Poet Kaneko Misuzu

Kaneko Misuzu: Finding God in a Little Bee

Yazaki Setsuo 

April 8, 2021

Kaneko Misuzu’s flights of imagination took her everywhere: from small things invisible to the human eye to the open skies and the vast cosmos beyond. At the same time, she was able to describe human emotions in language that was memorable and easy to understand, based on her keen observations of everyday life. An exploration of the humility and generosity of spirit that make Misuzu and her work so appealing.

Constantine Kavafy

Book of the day

Review

Alexandrian Sphinx by Peter Jeffreys and Gregory Jusdanis review – the mysterious life of Constantine Cavafy

This article is more than 4 months old

The enigmatic queer poet admired by EM Forster and Jackie Onassis takes centre stage in this unconventional biography

Michael Nott

11 August 2025

 

The second floor of 10 Rue Lepsius, tucked away in the old Greek quarter of Alexandria above a brothel, was, for three decades, the literary focal point of the city. Entering the apartment, out of the Mediterranean sun, visitors would need a minute to adjust to the dimness, gradually perceiving faded curtains and heavy furniture, every surface covered with antiques and whimsical objects. There was no electricity, only candlelight. The host, proffering morsels of bread and cheese from the shadows, was an older man with “enigmatic eyes” beneath round spectacles – the poet Constantine Cavafy.

Lost and Found: Children’s Poet Kaneko Misuzu

Kaneko Misuzu: Rediscovering the Life and Work of Japan’s Poet for Children

Yazaki Setsuo 

March 10, 2021

Yazaki Setsuo remembers the fateful encounter he had with the writing of children’s poet Kaneko Misuzu and the long search that helped to bring her work back into the light after it had been forgotten for half a century.

A Fateful Encounter

The beginnings of serious Japanese writing for children date back to the early decades of the twentieth century. The fashion for writing dōyō, poetry and nursery rhymes that could be enjoyed by children and adults alike, is often dated to the publication of Akai tori (Red Bird), a children’s magazine, in July 1918. One young woman in particular shot across the scene at the height of the movement, producing numerous verses that earned her the praise of the poet Saijō Yaso as “the brightest star among all the young writers of poetry for children.” That woman was Kaneko Misuzu.

Navel Moon by Raúl Gómez Jattin

 

Navel Moon

By Raúl Gómez Jattin

Raúl Gómez Jattin / Ombligo de luna

I sketch your outline from the lighthouse down to the city walls

Your iron eyes are glow hallucinated

Sea skips over stones and my soul’s got it wrong

Sun sinks into water and water is pure fire

You’re almost like a dream   Almost a stone in time’s swaying

A tender archetype solid in these dim days

your way of soothing my tears

Letting loose your body against mine   Mad

like a foal in prairie fire

Spilling your words on my knowledge 

like a poison to heal absence

Recalling things used and forgotten

with a bright wondrous flight

It’s getting late my love   Sea brings storms

A pale moon recalls your naval

And a few clouds light and slow like your hands

drink thirstily   Like when I die up against your mouth

Raúl Gómez Jattin / A probable Constantine Cavafy at 19

 

A PROBABLE CONSTANTINE CAVAFY AT 19

by Raúl Gómez Jattin

Tonight he will attend three dangerous ceremonies
Love between men
Smoking marijuana
and writing poems

Tomorrow he will get up past noon
His lips will be parched
His eyes red
and another sheet of enemy paper

His lips will hurt from so many kisses
His eyes will smart like burning cigarette butts
And neither will that poem express his crying

 

The Collected Poems of Li He

trans. J. D. Frodsham

(NYRB, March 2017)

POETS OF THE LATE TANG DYNASTY

January 15, 2019
by Matt Turner

Most American readers of Chinese poetry come to it through classic translations by Ezra Pound, Gary Snyder, Burton Watson, and a few others. With some notable exceptions, those translations have tended to focus on the poetic triumvirate of the Tang dynasty (618–907 CE): Li Bai (Li Po), Du Fu (Tu Fu), and Wang Wei. The literary context in which those three Tang poets are placed—in China as well as the U.S.—is part of a long, ascendant tradition in Chinese letters, beginning to certain degree with the early anthology that Confucius assembled: the Shijing, better known in English as the Book of Odes or the Book of Songs (Pound translated it as Shih-Ching: The Classic Anthology Defined by Confucius). The poems of the Shijing, which often seem little more than folk ditties, span seven centuries during the fabled Zhou dynasty (1046–256 BCE)—the time, according to Confucius in his Analects, when politics and society were ordered as they should be. In China, the Zhou and Tang periods are acknowledged as two golden ages, exemplars of what is best in the Chinese tradition. A trajectory of one to the other is easily assumed.