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, What tho' the eighth commandment rose to mind, The eighth commandment WAS NOT MADE FOR LOVE! Here when she took the macaroons from me, She wiped her mouth to clean the crumbs 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 No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er, SWEET POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF! thy worth profane ; For thou hast touched the rubies of my fair, And I will kiss thee o'er and o'er again. ELEGY II. The Poet invokes the Spirits of the Elements to approach Delia. He describes her singing. 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 thro' many a dateless year From central caverns bring your diamonds here, 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, Cease, ere my senses are to madness driven. ELEGY III. The Poet expatiates on the beauty of Delia's hair The comb between whose ivory teeth she strains The rose-pomatum that the FRISEUR spreads Sometimes with honour'd fingers for my fair, No added purfume on her tresses sheds, But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair. Happy the FRISEUR who in Delia's hair With licensed fingers uncontroul'd may rove, And happy in his death the DANCING BEAR, Who died to make pomatum for my LOVE. |