LOVE ELEGIES ELEGY I. THE POET RELATES HOW HE OBTAINED DELIA'S POCKET HANDKERCHIEF. 'Tis mine! what accents can my joy declare? I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels, After long travel to some distant shrine, When at the relic of his saint he kneels; For Delia's POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF IS MINE. When first, with filching fingers, I drew near, Keen hope shot tremulous through every vein; And, when the finished deed removed my fear, Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain. What though the Eighth Commandment rose to mind, It only served a moment's qualm to move; For thefts like this it could not be designed; The Eighth Commandment WAS NOT MADE FOR LOVE! Here, when she took the macaroons from me, She wiped her mouth to clean the crums so sweet! Dear napkin! yes, she wiped her lips in thee,Lips sweeter than the macaroons she eat. And, when she took that pinch of Mocabaw Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw; No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er, SWEET POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF! thy worth profane; For thou hast touched the rubies of my fair, ELEGY II. THE POET INVOKES THE SPIRITS OF THE ELEMENTS TO YE SYLPHS, who banquet on my Delia's blush, Hover around her lips on rainbow wing, Load from her honeyed breath your viewless feet, Bear thence a richer fragrance for the Spring, And make the lily and the violet sweet. Ye GNOMES, whose toil, through many a dateless year, Its nurture to the infant gem supplies, From central caverns bring your diamonds here, To ripen in the SUN OF DELIA'S EYES. And ye who bathe in Etna's lava-springs, She weeps, she weeps! her eye with anguish swells! Some tale of sorrow melts my FEELING GIRL! NYMPHS, catch the tears, and in your lucid shells Enclose them, EMBRYOS OF THE ORIENT PEARL! She sings! the Nightingale with envy hears; Cease, Delia, cease! for all the ANGEL-THROng, Hearkening to thee, let sleep their golden wires! Cease, Delia, cease that too-surpassing song, Lest, stung to envy, they should break their lyres! Cease, ere my senses are to madness driven By the strong joy! Cease, Delia! lest my soul, Enrapt, already THINK ITSELF IN HEAVEN, And burst the feeble body's frail control! ELEGY III. THE POET EXPATIATES ON THE BEAUTY OF DELIA'S HAIR. THE Comb between whose ivory teeth she strains The straitening curls of gold so beamy-bright, Not spotless merely from the touch remains, But issues forth more pure, more milky-white. The rose-pomatum, that the FRISEUR spreads But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair. Happy the FRISEUR who in Delia's hair, With licensed fingers, uncontrolled may rove! And happy in his death the DANCING-BEAR Who died to make pomatum for my LOVE! Oh! could I hope that e'er my favored lays Might curl those lovely locks with conscious pride, Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan Shepherd's praise, I'd envy then, nor wish reward beside. Cupid has strung from you, O tresses fine! The bow that in my breast impelled his dart; From you, sweet locks! he wove the subtile line Wherewith the urchin angled for MY HEART. Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threads Fine as the GLEAMY GOSSAMER that spreads Yet, with these tresses, Cupid's power elate My captive heart has handcuffed in a chain Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate, THAT BEARS BRITANNIA'S THUNDERS O'ER THE MAIN. The SYLPHS that round her radiant locks repair, ELEGY IV. THE POET RELATES HOW HE STOLE A LOCK OF DELIA'S OH, be the day accursed that gave me birth! Let universal Chaos now return, Now let the central fires their prison burst, And EARTH and HEAVEN and AIR and OCEAN |