The poems of Ossian &c. containing the Poetical Works of James Macpherson, Esq. in prose and rhyme: with notes and illustrations by Malcolm Laing. In two volumes |
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IN ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM DELIA. |
 | The poems of Ossian |  |
623
IN ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM DELIA.
Twice has the winter vexed the main,
And twice the summer parched the plain,
Since, absent from his Delia's eyes,
Remote the hapless poet sighs,
And sees the joyless seasons roll,
Far from the charmer of his soul.
And twice the summer parched the plain,
Since, absent from his Delia's eyes,
Remote the hapless poet sighs,
And sees the joyless seasons roll,
Far from the charmer of his soul.
In vain, to shroud thee from my eyes,
Or billows roll, or mountains rise,
When diving in the secret shade,
I see, in thought, my charming maid
In all the light of beauty move,
As when she warmed my heart to love:
Again her charms my soul surprise,
I feel the lightning of her eyes;
Her marble neck, her hair behold
Like winding tides of melted gold;
Still on her cheek the roses glow,
Still swells her breast of heaving snow.
The vision flies, delusive all!
From what a height poor mortals fall!
I wake to care—My fair no more
I see;—The winds around me roar;
Cold showers from sullen skies descend,
And storms the lofty forest rend;
I fly the tempest—leave the plain,
But oh! from love I fly in vain.
Or billows roll, or mountains rise,
When diving in the secret shade,
I see, in thought, my charming maid
In all the light of beauty move,
As when she warmed my heart to love:
624
I feel the lightning of her eyes;
Her marble neck, her hair behold
Like winding tides of melted gold;
Still on her cheek the roses glow,
Still swells her breast of heaving snow.
The vision flies, delusive all!
From what a height poor mortals fall!
I wake to care—My fair no more
I see;—The winds around me roar;
Cold showers from sullen skies descend,
And storms the lofty forest rend;
I fly the tempest—leave the plain,
But oh! from love I fly in vain.
In crowds would I dissolve my care,
The peace I seek, I find not there.
My absent fair one prompts my sighs,
And calls the tears from both my eyes;
My heart beats thick against my side,
More swiftly rolls the crimson tide;
I sweat, I pant, my ears resound,
And vision dimly swims around.
I pine, I languish in my pain,
And scarce does half the man remain.
The peace I seek, I find not there.
My absent fair one prompts my sighs,
And calls the tears from both my eyes;
My heart beats thick against my side,
More swiftly rolls the crimson tide;
I sweat, I pant, my ears resound,
And vision dimly swims around.
I pine, I languish in my pain,
And scarce does half the man remain.
I eye the maids, the soft and gay,
And wish to look my soul away;
With other objects to supply
The fair, the adverse fates deny;
Ill were my fair by them supplied,—
Their form disgusts, but more their pride.
With haughty sneer they seem to say,
Away, dull impudence! away!
You look, you sigh, and weep in vain;
Go; woo some trull upon the plain.
With conscious shame I blush, I glow;
My Delia would not use me so—
And wish to look my soul away;
With other objects to supply
The fair, the adverse fates deny;
Ill were my fair by them supplied,—
Their form disgusts, but more their pride.
With haughty sneer they seem to say,
Away, dull impudence! away!
625
Go; woo some trull upon the plain.
With conscious shame I blush, I glow;
My Delia would not use me so—
A packet!—'tis my Delia's hand—
What would my lovely maid command?
Am I my fair-one's tender care?
Love me!—What would you love, my dear?
No fair domains of mine are spread,
No lofty villa rears its head;
No lowing herds are heard afar,
Nor neighs the courser at my car;
No pageantry of state is mine,
I boast no nobles in my line;
My numbers are admired by none,
Or by the partial maid alone;
No beauties on my limbs arise,
Nor armed with lightning are my eyes:
Love me! what would you love, my dear?
A gen'rous heart—a mind sincere;
A soul that fortune's frowns defies,
Nor flatters fools I must despise,
Is all I boast, my charming fair!
Love me!—what would you love, my dear!
What would my lovely maid command?
Am I my fair-one's tender care?
Love me!—What would you love, my dear?
No fair domains of mine are spread,
No lofty villa rears its head;
No lowing herds are heard afar,
Nor neighs the courser at my car;
No pageantry of state is mine,
I boast no nobles in my line;
My numbers are admired by none,
Or by the partial maid alone;
No beauties on my limbs arise,
Nor armed with lightning are my eyes:
Love me! what would you love, my dear?
A gen'rous heart—a mind sincere;
A soul that fortune's frowns defies,
Nor flatters fools I must despise,
Is all I boast, my charming fair!
Love me!—what would you love, my dear!
| The poems of Ossian | |