Poems on Several Occasions In Two Volumes. By Mr. Joseph Mitchell |
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THE REVENGE, TO MARIANA. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
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THE REVENGE, TO MARIANA.
Et Longum Formosa vale ------
Virg.
Virg.
What means my Mariana now?
What makes her so tyrannic grow?
Why, on a sudden, turn'd so wild,
So cruel, who was late so mild,
So tender, gentle, loving, kind?
Ah! tell me, hast thou chang'd thy Mind?
I fear, I fear, 'twas my own Fault,
That this Conversion in Thee wrought!
It was my Superstition made
Thee first a Goddess, of a Shade!
My Fancy gave Thee all the Charms,
Which now against me rise in Arms!
So have I known a King oppress
The Men, who sav'd him from Distress;
So have I seen a Snake at Strife
With him, who warm'd it into Life.
What makes her so tyrannic grow?
Why, on a sudden, turn'd so wild,
So cruel, who was late so mild,
So tender, gentle, loving, kind?
Ah! tell me, hast thou chang'd thy Mind?
274
That this Conversion in Thee wrought!
It was my Superstition made
Thee first a Goddess, of a Shade!
My Fancy gave Thee all the Charms,
Which now against me rise in Arms!
So have I known a King oppress
The Men, who sav'd him from Distress;
So have I seen a Snake at Strife
With him, who warm'd it into Life.
But was't for this Return, my Fair,
I form'd, of Cupid's Nets, thy Hair?
For this, did I, to paint Thee gay,
Bring Whiteness from the milky Way?
From Eastern Spices steal the Scent,
And rob the Flow'rs, for Ornament?
Plunder the Stars, t'inspire thy Eyes?
The Spheres, to tune thy Tongue and Voice?
The Snow, to make thy Forehead shine?
Love's Bows, to make thy Brows divine?
What Fool was I, that did create,
And give Thee Pow'r to speak my Fate!
How cruel Thou, and how ingrate?
I form'd, of Cupid's Nets, thy Hair?
For this, did I, to paint Thee gay,
Bring Whiteness from the milky Way?
From Eastern Spices steal the Scent,
And rob the Flow'rs, for Ornament?
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The Spheres, to tune thy Tongue and Voice?
The Snow, to make thy Forehead shine?
Love's Bows, to make thy Brows divine?
What Fool was I, that did create,
And give Thee Pow'r to speak my Fate!
How cruel Thou, and how ingrate?
Yet, since I find my Life at stake,
And I, that made thee, can unmake;
Since thus thou hast thy Arms employ'd,
And me, their Giver, nigh destroy'd;
Restore, restore them back again:
Thy Cruelty has broke my Chain.
I see thy natural Shape and Face,
And blush to have bestow'd such Grace.
My Fancy owns its Errors now,
And humbly does to Reason bow.
No more, a Goddess, shalt thou rule;
No more, a Slave, I'll play the Fool.
Hence, fond Love, Delusion hence,
For I've regain'd my Self and Sense.
And I, that made thee, can unmake;
Since thus thou hast thy Arms employ'd,
And me, their Giver, nigh destroy'd;
Restore, restore them back again:
Thy Cruelty has broke my Chain.
I see thy natural Shape and Face,
And blush to have bestow'd such Grace.
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And humbly does to Reason bow.
No more, a Goddess, shalt thou rule;
No more, a Slave, I'll play the Fool.
Hence, fond Love, Delusion hence,
For I've regain'd my Self and Sense.
Ha! Mariana! what's become
Of th' Arms, that threaten'd late my Doom?
Where's now thy Pride? Thy Rigour, where?
Methinks thy Looks are less severe.
No borrow'd Charms thy Face adorn;
Thy Person I begin to scorn,
And act the Tyrant, in my Turn.
Of th' Arms, that threaten'd late my Doom?
Where's now thy Pride? Thy Rigour, where?
Methinks thy Looks are less severe.
No borrow'd Charms thy Face adorn;
Thy Person I begin to scorn,
And act the Tyrant, in my Turn.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |