The Fair Circassian, A Dramatic Performance Done from the Original By a Gentleman-Commoner of Oxford. The Second Edition Corrected. To which are added Several Occasional Poems. By the same Author [i.e. Samuel Croxall] |
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| V. | CANTO V. |
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 | The Fair Circassian, A Dramatic Performance |  |
CANTO V.
HE.Delights so sweet the Springs and Grottos give.
That in thy Garden I would ever live.
Where-e'er I turn, enchanting Scenes arise,
To glad my Soul, and entertain my Eyes.
I came, my Fair, I came a willing Guest,
On thy delicious pleasant Fruits to feast:
Of Gums and Myrrh I rob'd each spicy Tree,
I sipt the balmy Labours of the Bee:
For Me the Vine with Purple Clusters glow'd,
With Milk the Nut, the Peach with Nectar flow'd:
O here, my Fair, for ever let us stay,
And spend in Love and Wine the live-long Day.
SHE.
I sleep, but still my listning Fancy wakes,
A Voice informs Me my Beloved speaks;
“To thy dear Arms, He cries, my lovely Fair,
“Receive me from the dark inclement Air:
“The Vapours fall, the drisly Dews distill,
“The Drops of Night my Locks with Moisture fill;
“Arise, my Fair, unfold the bolted Doors,
“Arise, 'tis I, thy Wanderer implores.
Alas! the darkning Shades my Sandals hide,
My Mantle's negligently thrown aside;
Can I now find it? or defile again
My Feet just washt, and from the Bathing clean?
Yet will I come all barefoot and undrest,
And clasp Thee dropping to my warmer Breast.
A Voice informs Me my Beloved speaks;
“To thy dear Arms, He cries, my lovely Fair,
“Receive me from the dark inclement Air:
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“The Drops of Night my Locks with Moisture fill;
“Arise, my Fair, unfold the bolted Doors,
“Arise, 'tis I, thy Wanderer implores.
Alas! the darkning Shades my Sandals hide,
My Mantle's negligently thrown aside;
Can I now find it? or defile again
My Feet just washt, and from the Bathing clean?
Yet will I come all barefoot and undrest,
And clasp Thee dropping to my warmer Breast.
Upon the Lock my Prince's Fingers move,
The Sound dissolves my pitying Soul to Love:
I rose, I flew with Speed to let Him in,
But too much Haste obstructed my Design;
O'er every Bolt my wandering Fingers stray
Perfum'd, and leave sweet Odours by the Way.
But when I open'd, ah! my Love was gone,
Tir'd out with my Delay He had withdrawn.
Sore on my Mind the Disappointment hung,
My Soul Regret and sharp Vexation stung.
Again my mournful Voice I sent around,
But only Eccho babled to the Sound.
Then madly thro' the silent Streets I ran,
Hoping to find the dear excluded Man:
Alone I hurried on my giddy Flight,
Nor fear'd the lurking Dangers of the Night.
The Watch, to whom I tenderly complain'd,
With foul Reproach my spotless Honour stain'd:
My loose Attire the Sentinels descry'd,
And rudely wou'd have drawn my Veil aside.
Pity my Case, Ye Virgins of the Plain,
Whene'er Ye take, restore my wand'ring Swain:
For Him I languish, and my lovesick Mind
Without his Presence no Relief can find.
The Sound dissolves my pitying Soul to Love:
I rose, I flew with Speed to let Him in,
But too much Haste obstructed my Design;
O'er every Bolt my wandering Fingers stray
Perfum'd, and leave sweet Odours by the Way.
But when I open'd, ah! my Love was gone,
Tir'd out with my Delay He had withdrawn.
Sore on my Mind the Disappointment hung,
My Soul Regret and sharp Vexation stung.
Again my mournful Voice I sent around,
But only Eccho babled to the Sound.
Then madly thro' the silent Streets I ran,
Hoping to find the dear excluded Man:
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Nor fear'd the lurking Dangers of the Night.
The Watch, to whom I tenderly complain'd,
With foul Reproach my spotless Honour stain'd:
My loose Attire the Sentinels descry'd,
And rudely wou'd have drawn my Veil aside.
Pity my Case, Ye Virgins of the Plain,
Whene'er Ye take, restore my wand'ring Swain:
For Him I languish, and my lovesick Mind
Without his Presence no Relief can find.
CHORUS of VIRGINS.
How blest, how more than blest the happy Swain!
For whom so fine a Creature can complain.
Describe, Thou Fair, this Partner of thy Breast,
Show us how He so far excells the Rest;
O say what Charms, with such superior Grace,
Finish his Person and adorn his Face.
SHE.
His Face with far transcendent Beauty glows,
As the rich Standard in the Squadron shows;
His Charms such bright distinguisht Lustre wear,
Among ten Thousand He'd the Chief appear.
A youthful Red with intermingled White
Sets off his Features in a pleasing Light;
Shining his Hair, and of a Raven Black,
In waving Ringlets falls adown his Back:
Arm'd with a tender Languishment his Eyes
Please while they wound, and kill without Surprize:
So soft, and so alluring, Turtles look,
That bill and coo beside the purling Brook.
His blooming Cheeks resemble vernal Flow'rs,
Warm'd with the Sun and plumpt with April Show'rs.
His melting Lips like new-blown Rosebuds meet,
Bedew'd and dropping with a balmy Sweet.
But oh! his fragrant Kisses who can tell!
So much beyond Description they excell.
Where can his matchless Hand a Rival find?
So turn'd the Fingers, and so fitly joyn'd!
Rings for Embellishment by some are worn;
His finer Hands the very Gems adorn.
His Skin, like polisht Ivory, smooth and fair,
His Veins like Rows of inlaid Saphires are.
His shapely Legs like marble Pillars hold
The Fabric rising from a Base of Gold.
His Form a Prospect so inviting wears,
As crown'd with Cedars Lebanon appears,
When with the sloping Sun 'tis gilded bright,
And blesses with it's Smiles the distant Sight.
As the rich Standard in the Squadron shows;
His Charms such bright distinguisht Lustre wear,
Among ten Thousand He'd the Chief appear.
A youthful Red with intermingled White
Sets off his Features in a pleasing Light;
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In waving Ringlets falls adown his Back:
Arm'd with a tender Languishment his Eyes
Please while they wound, and kill without Surprize:
So soft, and so alluring, Turtles look,
That bill and coo beside the purling Brook.
His blooming Cheeks resemble vernal Flow'rs,
Warm'd with the Sun and plumpt with April Show'rs.
His melting Lips like new-blown Rosebuds meet,
Bedew'd and dropping with a balmy Sweet.
But oh! his fragrant Kisses who can tell!
So much beyond Description they excell.
Where can his matchless Hand a Rival find?
So turn'd the Fingers, and so fitly joyn'd!
Rings for Embellishment by some are worn;
His finer Hands the very Gems adorn.
His Skin, like polisht Ivory, smooth and fair,
His Veins like Rows of inlaid Saphires are.
His shapely Legs like marble Pillars hold
The Fabric rising from a Base of Gold.
His Form a Prospect so inviting wears,
As crown'd with Cedars Lebanon appears,
When with the sloping Sun 'tis gilded bright,
And blesses with it's Smiles the distant Sight.
Such is my Love, Ye Virgins, such the Swain
That gives me Pleasure with alternate Pain.
That gives me Pleasure with alternate Pain.
| The Fair Circassian, A Dramatic Performance | |