Poems to Thespia To Which are Added, Sonnets, &c. [by Hugh Downman] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | IV.
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| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
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 | Poems to Thespia |  |
IV.
[Ah! whence my Thespia, can that anguish flow?]
Ah! whence my Thespia, can that anguish flow?
That silent anguish of expressive woe?
That sigh which from thy struggling bosom stole?
That look which pierces to my inmost soul?
Ah! say my Thespia, I conjure thee say,
To me the hidden cause unblamed display.
Half of thyself, I claim my lawful share;
Yet, would to Heaven, that I the whole might bear!
Unveil thy thoughts in confidence to me;
And trust a bosom fraught with sympathy.
From thee would I my labouring heart confine?
And are not all it's deepest secrets thine?
That silent anguish of expressive woe?
That sigh which from thy struggling bosom stole?
That look which pierces to my inmost soul?
Ah! say my Thespia, I conjure thee say,
To me the hidden cause unblamed display.
Half of thyself, I claim my lawful share;
Yet, would to Heaven, that I the whole might bear!
12
And trust a bosom fraught with sympathy.
From thee would I my labouring heart confine?
And are not all it's deepest secrets thine?
Wretch that I am! who thee to shield from pain,
Would pour out life at every gushing vein;
Am I the cause? and could'st Thou ever spy
A look of coldness glancing from my eye?
To thee a cold, blank look? Oh, too refined,
And subtile error of thy feeling mind!
A delicacy apt too deep to dive,
To each nice touch too tenderly alive!
Though I esteem it as a blessing sent,
As the more polish'd mind's chief ornament,
A sacred spark kindled by Heaven's own ray,
Yet, let not sensibility betray.
Would pour out life at every gushing vein;
Am I the cause? and could'st Thou ever spy
A look of coldness glancing from my eye?
To thee a cold, blank look? Oh, too refined,
And subtile error of thy feeling mind!
A delicacy apt too deep to dive,
To each nice touch too tenderly alive!
Though I esteem it as a blessing sent,
As the more polish'd mind's chief ornament,
A sacred spark kindled by Heaven's own ray,
Yet, let not sensibility betray.
Thou weep'st; where did my tongue profanely rove?
How could I blame thee? 'twas excess of love.
Oh! let me circle thee with strict embrace,
Warm breast to breast, and glowing face to face!
(My fixed lips while speechless rapture ties)
Imbibe the lucid moisture of thine eyes!
Thy melting spirit in each breath inhale!
Gaze on thee till the nerves of vision fail!
And quite o'er-power'd by Love's imperious sway,
Feel all my fainting soul dissolve away!
How could I blame thee? 'twas excess of love.
13
Warm breast to breast, and glowing face to face!
(My fixed lips while speechless rapture ties)
Imbibe the lucid moisture of thine eyes!
Thy melting spirit in each breath inhale!
Gaze on thee till the nerves of vision fail!
And quite o'er-power'd by Love's imperious sway,
Feel all my fainting soul dissolve away!
| Poems to Thespia | |