« السابقةمتابعة »
THE GOLDEN AGE OF LOVE.
The occasion that gave rise to the following Poem may require
explanation.—A lady had presented to the author an emblematical drawing accompanied by the following lines :
Tel ful L'amour au Siecle D'oron ne le trouve plus, mais on le cherche encore-n offrant qu'un coeur a la Beautè, aussi nud que la Verite, sans armes comme l' Innocence, sans ailes comme la Constance.”
Soft as the down descends to deck
See where yon infant, Cupid, stands :
Yet why, where Love in height sublime Triumphant rules o'er fate and time, Where his full quiver's feath’ry pride Proclaims o'er all his empire wide; Why on his altar's trophy'd base Would'st thou the name of FRIENDSHIP trace? Not to this heart can friendship prove What “ in the golden age was Love."
Friendship! the cold, reluctant name,
And "cannot Love on earth be found,
Ah me! methinks I hear thee say, No hearts the pow'r of Love obey; No constant bards his aid invoke; No bosoms seek his flow'ry yoke; Stern av’rice breaks his trampled bow; The myrtle withers on his brow, While scarce a leaf remains to prove What " in the golden age was Love."
I bend to Love's triumphant throne, “ I give to thee one heart alone.” Ah! when far hence compell’d to go, I drag the tort'ring chain of woe, Tho' many a fair may seek mine eye, To thee I'll pour the faithful sigh; And, spite of time and absence, prove Such in the golden age was Love."
See Love in native beauty rise ! Like “ Truth,” the god rejects disguise ; Like “Innocence," he bears no arms To shield his breast from vain alarms; Like “Constancy,” unwont to stray, He spreads no wing to speed away. How well Emnilia's hand can prove What " in the golden age was Love !”
Oh, dare I hope the beauteous maid Her Alfred's heart had there portray'd ! That heart, like “Truth,” each thought unveild, No wand'ring wish from her conceald; Like “ Innocence," unarm'd to bear The wound her eye inflicted there; And, firm as “Constancy,” should prove This is the GOLDEN AGE of Love.
E. Swift, Esq.
Cease to blame my melancholy,
Though with sighs and folded arms,
I muse with silence on her charm's;
Yet these mournful thoughts possessing,
Such delights I find in grief,
That, could heaven afford relief,
Sir John Moore.
ATTORNEY AT LAW, IN CHESTERFIELD,
Died April 23, 1782,
A tender husband, and a friend sincere,
age completing, what his youth began, “ The noblest work of God, -AN HONEST MAN.”