« السابقةمتابعة »
With cruel force the fatal shaft employs,
And soonest what he most adores destroys.
How cold I feel life's idle current flow,
Where once the dancing spirits lov'd to glow!
No more these eyes with youthful rapture shine,
Nor cheeks soft blushing speak a warmth divine ;
Graceful no more amid the festive dance
My steps with easy dignity advance,
And all the glossy locks, whofe ringlets spread,
O'er my fair neck, the honours of my head,
Cease the neat labours of my hand to know ;
Ill fuits the care of elegance with woe!
Why did not Nature, when she gave to charm
With unrelenting pride my bosom arm?
Why was my soul it's tender pity taught,
Each foft affection, and each generous thought?
Hence spring my sorrows, hence with fighs I prove
How feeble woman, and how fierce is love!
In unavailing streams my tears are thed;
Sad Laura's blifs is with Lorenzo fled.
For thee, false youth, was every joy resign'd,
Young health, sweet peace, and innocence of mind
Are these the constant vows thy tongue profess’d,
When first thy arms my yielding beauties press'd?
Thus did thy kiss dispel my empty fears,
Or winning voice delight my raptur'd ears ;
Thus swore thy lips, by ocean, earth, and sky ;
By hell's dread powers, and Heaven's all-piercing eye?
Yawns not the grave for thee? why sleeps the storm
To blast thy limbs, and rend thy perjur'd form?
Unmov’d, O faithiefs! canst thou hear my pain,
Like the proud rocks which brave th’ unwearied main?
Sooner the shipwreck'd pilot shall appease
With sighs and howling winds, with tears the seas,
Than Laura's prayers thy heart unfeeling move,
lost to fame, to honour, and to love!
Nurs'd in dark caverns, on some mountain wild,
To cruel manhood grew the daring child,
No female breast supply'd thy infant food,
But tygers growling o'er their favage brood.
Curs'd be that fatal hour thy charms were seen,
While yet this mind was guiltless and serene !
With thee, false man, I urg'd my hafty Alight,
And dar'd the horrors of tempestuous night,
Nor fear'd with thee thro' plains unknown to rove,
Deaf to the dictates of paternal love.
In vain for me a parent's tears were shed,
And to the grave descends his hoary head!
When at my feet entranc'd my lover lay,
And pour'd in tender fighs his soul away,
Fond, foolish heart! to think the tale divine;
Why started not my hands when press’d in thine ?
Too well remembrance paints the fatal hour
When Love, great conqueror, summon'd all his power ;
When bolder grown, your glances flash'd with fire,
And your pale lips all trembled with desire;
Back to my heart my blood tumultuous flew,
From every pore distillid the chilling dew,
When Shame presag n. spoke each future pain,
And struggling Virtue arm'd my soul in vain !
But, o let filence all my weakness veil,
And burnin blushes only tell the tale !
Ah, faithless man ! and thou more wretched maid !
To guilt, and grief, and misery betray'd !
Far flies thy lover : to fome distant plain
Now cleaves it's bounding bark the peaceful main ;
Avenging Heaven, that heard the vows he swore,
Bid howl the blackening storm, and thunder roar,
Till waves on waves in tumbling mountains roll,
Now fink to hell, and now ascend the pole ;
Then on some plank o'er foaming billows borne,
Trembling, his perjur'd faith the wretch shall mourn ;
But mourn in vain-his vigorous arm shall fail,
Guilt sink him down, and angry Heav'n prevail ;
No friendly hand to earth his limbs convey,
But dogs and vultures tear the bloated prey !
Yet, ah, fond 'heart! avert, kind Heaven, the stroke,
My heart denies what trembling lips have spoke.
The varying accents real nature prove,
And only shew how wild a thing is love.
Go, much-lov'd youth! with every blessing crown'd,
And Laura's wishes ever guard thee round.
Me to the silent shades, and sad retreat,
Where love's expiring flames forget their heat,
Death wooes all-powerful: ere he parts the clew,
Once more thy Laura bids her love adieu ;
Bids health and affluence
Bids thee be lov'd, be happy, and ador'd!
In ease, in mirth, glide each glad hour away ;
No pain to spot thy fortune's cloudless day;
No sigh to swell, no tear to flow for me!
O grant, Heaven, all !-but grant thee constancy !
Yet from my hand this last address receive ;
This last address is all that hand can give.
In vain thy bark with spreading canvas flies,
If these fad lines shall meet thy conscious eyes,
And, taught with winning eloquence to move,
The winds and waters waft the voice of love ;
That voice, (O grant what dying lips implore !)
Alks but one tear from thee, and asks no more!
Then world, farewel! farewel life's fond desires,
False flattering hopes, and love's tormenting fires.
Already, Death, before my closing eyes
Thy airy forms and glimmering shades arise.
Hark! hear I not for me yon passing bell
Toll forth, with frequent pause, it's sullen knell ?
Waits not for me yon fexton on his spade,
Blithe whistling o'er the grave his toil has roade?
Say, why yon hearse with fading flowers is crown'd,
Apd midnight gales the deep-mouth'd dirge resound 2
Hail, lifter worms ! and thou my kindred dust,
Secure to you my weary limbs I trust.
Dim burns life's lamp; O Death! thy work compleat,
And give my soul to gain her last retreat.
Such as before the birth of Nature sway'd,
Ere springing light the first Great Word obey'd.
Let filence reign; come, Fate, exert thy mights
And, Darkness, wrap me in eternal night!
N the banks of the Styx, as a beautiful gholt,
In resemblance the shade of the Goddess of Love,
Was revolving the days when a counters and toast
She flaunted about in the regions above;
News arriv'd, which foon made all Elyfium to ring,
That the Fatės a great monarch had summond to reft,
In calling Old England's late father and king
To a crown of reward in the realms of the (s'd.
My lady was vex'd to be robb’d of th’occasion,
By dying before him so mal-a-propos,
Of seeing his royal young heir's coronation,
And making a party herself in the show.
She therefore in hafte skipp'd away to the ferry
• Here, Charon ! you're empty ; come, take over me ; • I'm resolv'd to go back to the world in your wherry,
· The only fine fight I e'er miss'd of, to fee.'
Old Charon most civilly bow'd to my lady;
Stepp'd out of his wherry, and handed her in : But finding the wanted a pafs, was as ready
Her ladyfhip roughly to turn out again.
Then skudding away to the court in a hurry,
Direct, for a passport, to Pluto she ran ; And put Madam Proserpine into a furry,
Who thought he was come to seduce her good man.
Gloomy Dis grimly smil'd at the lady's request,
But more at her whimsical motive and reason; And, having malignly a mind for a jest,
Represented her suit as a thing out of season.
• I cannot,' said he, • lady fair,' with a frown,
• Indulge ev'ry ghost in it's wanton desire ; « But if for their fakes wife or husband come down,
• I then might reftore the fond fouls they require.
Since Orpheus, however, in risque of his life,
• Long ago made us ftare with his musick and passion,
Not a soul hath come down, or for husband or wife ;
. So that journies of this kind are quite out of fashion.
• Yet, as you're a beauty, the favour I grant ye ;
• But wherefore again should you covet on earth, « To mix with a crowd, that perhaps only want ye
To make you the theme of impertinent mirth?