« PoprzedniaDalej »
Contented I had been too blest,
If once again my vows displease, If love and you had let me rest :
There never was so lost a lover;
In love, that languishing disease,
A sad relapse we ne'er recover.
Sighing and languishing I lay,
A stranger grown to all deligbt,
Passing with tedious thoughts the day, 'Tis worth a life to dic within your arms.
And with unquiet dreams the night.
Was how my fatal love to hide;
For ever drooping with despair,
Neglecting all the world beside: Froy wars and plagues come no such harms,
Till, like some angel from above, As from a nymph so full of charms,
Cornelia came to my relief ; So much sweetness in her face,
And then I found the joys of love In her motions such a grace,
Can make amends for all the grief. In her kind inviting eyes Such a soft enchantment lies,
Those pleasing hopes I now pursue That we please ourselves too soon,
Might fail if you could prove unjust; And are with empty hopes undone.
But promises frorn Heaven and you, After all her softness, we
Who is so impious to mistrust? Are but slaves, while she is free;
Here all my doubts and troubles end, Free, alas! from all desire,
One tender word my soul assures ; Except to set the world on fire.
Nor am I vain, since I depend
Not on my own desert, but yours.
DEJECTED, as true converts die,
But yet with fervent thoughts inflam'd, One hour of love's delight outweighs
So, fairest! at your feet I lie, Whole years of universal praise;
Of all my sex's faults asham'd. And one adorer, kindly us'd,
Too long, alas! have I abus'd Gives truer joys than crowds refus'd.
Love's innocent and sacred flame, For what does youth and beauty serve?
And that divinest power have us'd
To laugh at, as an idle name.
But since so freely I confess
A criine which may your scorn proluce, Unless you love, you please in vain.
Allow me now to make it less
By any just and fair excuse.
Variety was all my bliss ;
But ignorant of love and you,
How could I choose but do amiss ? When I beheld those eyes before,
If ever now my wandering eyes i gaz'd with wonder and delight,
Seek out amusements as before; Insensible of all their power.
If e'er I look, but to despise I play'd about the fame so long,
Such charms, and value yours the more ; At last I felt the scorching fire;
May sad remorse, and guilty shame, My hopes were weak, my passion strong,
Revenge your wrongs on faithless me; And I lay dying with desire.
And, what I tremble even to name,
May I lose all in losing thee!
IN IMITATION OF ANACREON. And now my sighs no longer shun, No Persian in his zealous prayer
Thou flatterer of all the fair, So much adores the rising Sun,
Come with all your skill and care;
Draw me such a shape and face,
If from the glorious height he falls, As your flattery would disgrace.
He greatly daring dies; Wish not that she would appear,
Or mounting where bright beauty calls, 'Tis well for you she is not here:
An empire is the prize.
Safely perhaps dull crowds admire; That never sung of Celia's praise;
But I, alas! am all on fire. And those few that are behind
Like him who thought in childhood past I shall blest or wretched find,
That dire disease which kill'd at last, Only just as she is kind.
I dwst have sworn I lov'd before, With her tempting eyes begin,
And fancy'd all the danger o'er; Eyes that would draw angels in
Had felt the pangs of jealous pain, To a second sweeter sin.
And borne the blasts of cold disdain; Oh, those wanton rolling eyes!
Then reap'd at length the mighty gains, At each glance a lover dies :
That full reward of all our pains ! Make them bright, yet make them willing,
But what was all such grief or joy,
That did my heedless ears employ?
But the disease of idle hours;
Amusement, humour, affcctation, So much beauty, so much wit,
Compar'd with this sublimer passion, To our very soul they strike,
Whose raptures, bright as those above, All our senses pleas'd alike.
Outshine the flames of zeal or love. But so pure a white and red,
Yet think not, fairest, what I sing Never, never, can be said :
Can from a love platonic spring, What are words in such a case ?
That formal softness (false and vain) What is paint to such a face?
Not of the heart, but of the brain. How should either art avail us?
Thou art indeed above all nature; Fancy here itself must fail us.
But I, a wretched human creature, In her looks, and in her mien,
Wanting thy gentle generous aid, Such a gracefut air is seen,
Of husband, rivals, friends, afraid! That if you, with all your art,
Amidst all this seraphic tire, Can but reach the smallest part;
Am almost dying with desire, Next to her, the matchless she,
With cager wishes, ardent thoughts, We shall wonder most at thee.
Prone to commit Love's wildest faults! Then her neck, and breasts, and hair,
And (as we are on Sundays told And her--but my charming fair
The lusty patriarch did of old) Does in a thousand things excel,
Would force a blessing from those charms,
And grasp an angel in my arms.
SUNG ON THE STACE, BETWEEN AN ELDERLY SHEPHEN
AND A VERY YOUNG NYMPH.
Brigir and blooming as the Spring,
Universal love inspiring;
All our swains thy praises sing,
Ever gazing and admiring.
Praises in so high a strain,
And by such a shepherd sung, In such a cause no Muse should fail
Are enough to make me vain, To bear a mournful part;
Yet so harmless and so young. 'Tis just and noble to bewail The fate of fallin desert.
I should have despair'd amous In vain ambitious bopes design's
Rivals that appear so gaily : To make his soul aspire,
But your eyes have made me young,
By their smiling on me daily..
Idle boys admire us blindly,
Are inconstant, wild, and bold; Reason itself would scarce oppose,
And your using me so kindly And seems agreed with love.
Is a proof you are not old.
ON ONE WHO
Of all this nothing now remains,
But only sighs and endless pains !
TO A LADY
RETIRING INTO A MONASTERY.
What breast but yours can hold the double fire Oh! deserve so kind a thought.
Of fierce devotion, and of fond desire?
Love would shine forth, were not your zeal so bright, EACH APART FIRST, AND THEN BOTH TOGETHER. Whose glaring tamnes eclipse his gentler light: Happy we shall lie possessing,
Less seems the faith that inountains can remove, Folded in each other's arms,
Than this which triumphs over youth and love. Love and Nature's chiefest blessing
But shall some threatening priest divide us two? In the still increasing charms.
What worse than that could all his curses do? So the dearest joys of loving,
Thus, with a fright, some have resign'd their breath, Which scarce Heaven can go beyond,
And poorly dy'd, only for fear of death. We'll be every day improving,
Heaven see's our passions with indulgence still, And they who lov'd well, can do nothing iil.
While to us nothing but ourselves is dear, You more fair, and I more fond.
Should the world frown, yet what have we to fear?
Fame, wealth, and power, those high-priz'd gifts I more fair, and you more fond.
The low concerns of a less happy state, sof Fate,
Like the blest saiats, eternal raptures know,
And slight those storms that vainly rest below. Sove vex their souls with jealous pain,
Yet this, all this, you are resolv'd to quit; While others sigh for cold disdain:
I see my ruin, and I must submit; Love's various slaves we daily see!
But think, O think, before you prove urkind, Yet kappy all, compar'd with me.
How lost a wretch you leave forlorn behind !
Malignant envy, mix'd with hate and fear, Of all mankind, I lov'd the best
Revenge for wrongs too burthensome to bear, A nymph so far above the rest,
E''n zeal itself, from whence all mischiefs spring, That we outshind the blest above,
Have never done so barbarous a thing. In beauty she, and I in love.
With such a fate the Heavens decreed to vex And therefore they who could not bear
Armida once, though of the fairest sex; To be outdone by mortals here,
Rinaldo she had charm'd with so much art, Among themselves have plac'd her now,
Hers was his power, his person, and his heart : And left me wretched here below.
Honour's high thoughts no more his mind could
move; All other fate I could have borne,
She sooth'd his rage, and turn'd it all to love: And ev'n endur'a her very scorn ;
When straight a gust of fierce devotion blows, But, oh! thus all at once to find
And in a moment all her joys o’erthrows : That dread account ! both dead and kind!
The poor Armida tears her golden hair, What heart can hold ! if yet I live,
Matchless, till now, for love or for despair. 'Tis but to show how much I grieve.
Who is not mov'd while the sad nymph complains ?
And after all our vows, our sighs, our tears,
My banish'd sorrows, and your conquer'd fears ;
So many doubts, so many dangers past, Come, all ye doleful, dismal cares,
Visions of zeal must vanquish me at last. That ever haunted guilty mind!
Thus, in great Homer's war, throughout the field, The pangs of love when it despairs,
Some hero still made all things mortal yield; And all those stings the jealous find :
But when a god once took the vanquish'd side, Alas! heart-breaking though ye be,
The weak prevail'd, and the victorious dy'd. Yet welcome, welcome all to me! Who now have lost-but, oh! how much?
No language, nothing can express, Except my grief! for she was such,
THE VISION. That praises would but make her less.
WRITTEN DURING A SEA VOYAGE, WHEN SENT TO COM Yet who can ever dare to raise
MAND THE FORCES FOR THE RELIEF OF TANGIER. His voice on her, unless to praise? Free from her sex's smallest faults,
ITHIN the silent shades of soft repose, And fair as womankind can be:
Where Fancy's boundless stream for ever flows; Tender and warm as lover's thoughts,
Where the enfranchis'd soul at ease can play, Yet cold to all the world but me.
Tir'd with the toilsome business of the day;
Where princes gladly rest their weary heads, Thank Heaven, my fate transports me now where I, And change uneasy thrones for downy beds, Your martyr, may with ease and safety die." Where seeming joys delude despairing minds, With that I kneelid, and seiz'd her trembling And where ev'n Jealousy some quiet finds ;
hand, There I and Sorrow for a while could part,
While she impos'd this cruel kind command: Sleep clos'd my eyes, and eas'd a sighing heart. “ Live, and love on; you will be true, I know;
But here, too soon, a wretched lover found, But live then, and come back to tell me so; In deepest griefs, that sleep can ne'er be found ; For, though I blush at this last guilty breath, With strange surprise my troubled fancy brings I can endure that better than your death.” Odd antic shapes of wild unheard-of things ;
Tormenting kindness ! barbarous reprieve! Dismal and terrible they all appear,
Condeinn'd to die, and yet compellid to live! My soul was shook with an unusual fear.
This tender scene my dream repeated o'er, But as when visions glad the eyes of saints, Just as it pass'd in real truth before. And kind relief attends devout complaints, Methought I then fell groveling to the ground, Some beauteous angel in bright charis will shine, ”Till on a sudden rais’d, I wondering found And spread a glory round, that's all divine; A strange appearance all in taintiess white; Just such a bright and Leauteous form appears, His form gave reverence, and his face delight: The monsters vanish, and with them my fears. Goodness and greatness in his eyes were seen, The fairest shape was then before me brought, Gentle his look, and affable his mien. That eyes e'er saw, or fancy ever thought; A kindly notice of me thus he took : How weak are words to show such excellence, “What mean these flowing eyes, this ghastly look! Which ev'n confounds the soul, as well as sense! These trembling joints, this loose dishevell'd hair, And, while our eyes transporting pleasure find, And this cold dew, the drops of deep despair ?” It stops not here, but strikes the very mind.
With grief and wonder first my spirits faint, Some angel speak her praise; no human tongue, But thus, at last, I vented my complaint: But, with its utmost art, must do her wrung. “ Behold a wretch, whom cruel Fate has found, The only woman that has power to kill,
And in the depth of all misfortune drown'd. And yet is good enough to want the will;
There shines a nymph, to whom an envy'd swain Who needs no soft alluring words repeat,
Is ty'd in Hymen's ceremonious chain; Nor study'd looks of languishing deceit.
But, cloy'd with charms of such a inarriage-bed, Fantastic Beauty, always in the wrong,
And fed with manna, yet he longs for bread; Stiil thinks some pride must to its power belong; And will, most husband-like, not only range, An air affected, and an haughty mien,
For love perhaps of nothing else but change, Something that seems to say, “I would be seen.” But to inferior beauty prostrate lies, But, of all wornankind, this only she,
And courts her love in scorn of Flavia's eyes. Full of its charms, and from its frailty free,
All this I knew," the form divine reply'd, Deserves some nobler Muse her fame to raise, “ And did but ask to have thy temper try'd, By making the whole sex beside her pyramid of Which prove sincere. Of both I know the mind; praise.
She is too scrupulous, and thou too kind : She, she appear'd the source of all my joys, But since thy fatal love's for ever fix'd, The dearest care that all my thought employs: Whatever time or absence come betwixt; Gently she look'd, as when I left her last,
Since thy fond heart ev'n her disdain prefers When first she seiz'd my heart, and held it fast: To others' love, I'll something soften hers : When, if my vows, alas! were made too late,
Llse in the scarch of virtue she may stray;
She now indeed sins on the safer side,
When marriage-vows unite an equal pair,
'Tis a mere contract made by human care, Of false mankind though you may be the best, By which they both are for convenience tyd, Ye all have robb'd poor women of their rest. The bridegroom yet more strictly than the bride; I see your pain, and see it too with grief,
For circumstances alter every ill, Because I would, yet must not, give relief. And woman meets with most temptation still; Thus, for a husband's sake, as well as yours, She a forsaken bed must often bear, My scrupulous soul divided paini endures;
While he can never fail to find her there, Guilty, alas ! to both: for thus I do
And therefore less excus'u to range elsewhere. Too much for him, yet not enough for you. Yet this she ought to suffer, and submit: Give over then, give over, hapless swain,
But when no longer for each other fit, A passion moving, but a passion vain:
If usage base shall just resentment move, Not chance nor tine shall ever change my thought : Or, what is worse, affronts of wandering love; 'Tis better much to die, than do a fault.”
No obligation after that remains,
But in her love, that dear concern of life,
I Aung me at his feet, his robes would kiss, But all your sex is subject to deceive,
And under harmless feathers felt a rape:
Her fault was in her powerful lover lost;
Though you to heroes and to kings succeed,
And great alliances but useless prove
Go then and boast in some less haughty place Amaz'd, I wak'd in haste,
Your Phrygian blood, and Priam's ancient race, All trembling at my doom :
Which I would show I valued, if I durst;
You are the fifth from Jove, but I the first.
The crown of Troy is powerful, I confess,
That men can good, and women pleasant call,
Gives expectation such an ample field
But, if I e'er offend great Juno's laws,
Yourself shall be the dear, the only cause;
Or follow you without mean thoughts of gain: When loose epistles violate chaste eyes,
Not that so fair a present I despise ; She half consents, who silently denies;
We like the gift, when we the giver prize; How dares a stranger, with designs so vain,
But 'tis your love moves me, which made you take Marriage and hospitable rights profane?
Such pains, and run such hazards for my sake. Was it for this your fate did shelter find
I have perceiv'd (though I dissembled too) From swelling seas and every faithless wind? A thousand things that love has made you do; (For though a distant country brought you forth, Your eager eyes would almost dazzle mine, (shine. Your usage here was equal to your worth.) In which (wild man!) your wanton thoughts would Does this deserve to be rewarded so!
Sometimes you'd sigh, sometimes disorder'd stand, Did you come here a stranger, or a foe?
And with unusual ardour press my hand; Your partial judgment may perhaps complain, Contrive just aster me to take the glass, And think me barbarous, for my just disdain; Nor would you let the least occasion pass; Ill-bred then let me be, but not uuchaste,
Which oft I fear'd I did not mind alone, Nor my clear fame with any spot defac'd.
And blushing sat for things which you have done; Though in my face there's no affected frown, Then murmur'd to myself, “ He'll for my sake Nor in my carriage a feign'd niceness shown, Do any thing :" I hope 'twas no mistake. I keep my honour still without a stain,
Oft have I read within this pleasant grove, Nor has my love made any coxcomb vain. Under my name, these charming words, I love. Your boldness I with admiration see:
1, frowning, seem'd not to believe your flame, What hope had you to gain a queen like me? But now, alas! am come to write the same. Because a hero forc'd me.once away,
If I were capable to do amiss, Ara I thought fit to be a second prey ?
I could not but le sensible of this. Had I been won, I had deserv'd your blame, For, oh! your face has such peculiar charms, But sure my part was nothing but the sbame; That who can hold from flying to your arms ! Yet the base theft to him no fruit did bear,
But what I ne'er can have without offence, I 'scap'd unhurt by any thing but fear :
May some blest maid possess with innocence, Pode force might some unwilling kisses gain, Pleasure may tempt,but Virtue more should move; But that was all he ever could obtain.
Oh! learn of me to want the thing you love. You on such terms would ne'er have let me go; What you desire is sought by all mankind; Were he like you, we had not parted so.
eyes, so others are not blind: Untouch'd the youth restor'd me to my friends, Like you they see, like you my charms adore; And modest usage made me some amends.
They wish not less, but you dare venture more. 'Tis virtue to repent a vicious deed :
Oh! had you then upon our coasts been brought, Did he repent, that Paris might succeed ?
My virgin love when thousand rivals sought, Sure 'tis some fate that sets me above wrongs, You had I seen, you should bave had my voice, Yet still exposes me to busy tongues.
Nor could my husband justly blame my choice. I'll not complain, for who's displeas'd with love, For both our hopes, alas ! you came too late, If it sincere, discreet, and constant prove?
Another now is master of my fate :