The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted ... Now First Collected. With Historical Notes, And Biographical Memoirs of the Author, by John Nichols |
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ACON and LAVINIA.
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 | The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted |  |
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ACON and LAVINIA.
A Love-Tale.
Among the Nymphs, who random conquests boast,
Lavinia spreads the careless triumph most:
Flush'd with immortal bloom, where'er she moves,
All eyes adore, and each beholder loves:
Free from concern she seems, while crowds admire;
And with unconscious beauty wakes desire:
Unrival'd in the heedless art to please,
Pain to all hearts she gives, her own at ease.
Lavinia spreads the careless triumph most:
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All eyes adore, and each beholder loves:
Free from concern she seems, while crowds admire;
And with unconscious beauty wakes desire:
Unrival'd in the heedless art to please,
Pain to all hearts she gives, her own at ease.
The crowd of females shine in gay brocades,
And half their charms are lost in lights and shades:
Hid in the rich embarrassments of art,
A Nymph is of herself the smallest part:
Lavinia nor with diamond stars is dress'd,
Nor rubies bleed in crosslets on her breast:
The Persian loom and glittering tissue scorn'd,
She boasts more envy'd graces, unadorn'd:
No aid from cost she needs; for Nature's care
With a free hand indulg'd her to be fair.
And half their charms are lost in lights and shades:
Hid in the rich embarrassments of art,
A Nymph is of herself the smallest part:
Lavinia nor with diamond stars is dress'd,
Nor rubies bleed in crosslets on her breast:
The Persian loom and glittering tissue scorn'd,
She boasts more envy'd graces, unadorn'd:
No aid from cost she needs; for Nature's care
With a free hand indulg'd her to be fair.
Her glossy tresses wear the golden hue,
The lustre which in sunny rays we view:
Her rosy cheek a genuine vermeil dyes,
And a bright blue the fluid in her eyes!
Behold her bosom, an expanded white,
Opening at large, the prospect of delight!
The finish'd figure, not retouch'd by art,
Imprints a lasting image on the heart.
The lustre which in sunny rays we view:
Her rosy cheek a genuine vermeil dyes,
And a bright blue the fluid in her eyes!
Behold her bosom, an expanded white,
Opening at large, the prospect of delight!
The finish'd figure, not retouch'd by art,
Imprints a lasting image on the heart.
This matchless Nymph, ere Nature's genial fire
Warm'd her unripen'd bosom to desire,
By virgin legends to disdain betray'd,
Had vow'd to live, and vow'd to die a maid:
From man and Hymen's dreaded rites she flew,
A rebel to the joys she never knew;
Resolv'd her sex's fortune not to share,
And shun alike the folly and the care:
Fond of sequester'd scenes, from noise remov'd,
The shady wood and limpid stream she lov'd;
Oft seen a huntress in the shady wood,
And often bathing in the limpid flood:
Now, with the morn she chac'd the flying fawns
Through the green meadows, and the shrubby lawns;
Now, lost in thought, and pleas'd alone to stray,
Through silent shades she marks her pathless way:
But, while through Nature's works she joys to rove,
She never thinks of Nature's parent, Love.
Warm'd her unripen'd bosom to desire,
By virgin legends to disdain betray'd,
Had vow'd to live, and vow'd to die a maid:
From man and Hymen's dreaded rites she flew,
A rebel to the joys she never knew;
Resolv'd her sex's fortune not to share,
And shun alike the folly and the care:
Fond of sequester'd scenes, from noise remov'd,
The shady wood and limpid stream she lov'd;
Oft seen a huntress in the shady wood,
And often bathing in the limpid flood:
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Through the green meadows, and the shrubby lawns;
Now, lost in thought, and pleas'd alone to stray,
Through silent shades she marks her pathless way:
But, while through Nature's works she joys to rove,
She never thinks of Nature's parent, Love.
The scene that bless'd lavinia's leisure smil'd
With hills, and vales, and woods; a blooming wild!
She shunn'd the sultry ray in jasmine bowers;
She trod on carpets of sweet-smelling flowers;
Where'er she turns, luxuriant landskips rise,
And still she breathes in aromatic skies;
For with the day spontaneous sweets are born,
And shed the fragrant freshness of the morn:
Echoes and rude cascades are heard around,
While, with soft murmurs, through th' enchanted ground,
A winding rivulet shapes its silver flow,
And shews a shining bed of sands below:
Wide-branching trees are rang'd on either side;
The branching shadows tremble in the tide.
With hills, and vales, and woods; a blooming wild!
She shunn'd the sultry ray in jasmine bowers;
She trod on carpets of sweet-smelling flowers;
Where'er she turns, luxuriant landskips rise,
And still she breathes in aromatic skies;
For with the day spontaneous sweets are born,
And shed the fragrant freshness of the morn:
Echoes and rude cascades are heard around,
While, with soft murmurs, through th' enchanted ground,
A winding rivulet shapes its silver flow,
And shews a shining bed of sands below:
Wide-branching trees are rang'd on either side;
The branching shadows tremble in the tide.
This chaste recess, this unfrequented shade,
By day for Nymphs, by night for Fairies made,
Lavinia's hours, devoid of care, employs,
And soothes her soul with fond romantic joys:
Oft in the silver stream herself she views,
And, often pleas'd, her likeness oft renews;
There grace in dress she learn'd, in motion ease;
And practis'd, though she knew not why, to please:
Now some poetic tale her mind relieves;
And now she bathes, and now the garlands weaves;
A thousand follies, to amuse, she tries;
A thousand different ways from Love she flies:
But all her thousand follies fruitless prove,
And all the arts she tries are snares of Love.
By day for Nymphs, by night for Fairies made,
Lavinia's hours, devoid of care, employs,
And soothes her soul with fond romantic joys:
Oft in the silver stream herself she views,
And, often pleas'd, her likeness oft renews;
There grace in dress she learn'd, in motion ease;
And practis'd, though she knew not why, to please:
Now some poetic tale her mind relieves;
And now she bathes, and now the garlands weaves;
A thousand follies, to amuse, she tries;
A thousand different ways from Love she flies:
But all her thousand follies fruitless prove,
And all the arts she tries are snares of Love.
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A youthful suitor, Acon was his name,
Though hopeless to approve his faithful flame,
Languish'd her beauties naked to explore,
And still the more he saw, he languish'd more.
Within a secret grot, clandestine laid,
Oft, when she bath'd, he view'd the heavenly maid:
His piercing eye ran quick o'er every part,
And took in all Lavinia, but her heart:
As painters master-works, he scans her o'er,
And dwells on beauties unobferv'd before;
And spies out graces, through her faultless frame,
So cast in shades, so nice, they want a name.
Though hopeless to approve his faithful flame,
Languish'd her beauties naked to explore,
And still the more he saw, he languish'd more.
Within a secret grot, clandestine laid,
Oft, when she bath'd, he view'd the heavenly maid:
His piercing eye ran quick o'er every part,
And took in all Lavinia, but her heart:
As painters master-works, he scans her o'er,
And dwells on beauties unobferv'd before;
And spies out graces, through her faultless frame,
So cast in shades, so nice, they want a name.
Of all who strove Lavinia's heart to gain,
She heard with least reluctance Acon's pain;
Not proud to scorn, nor kind to ease his fate;
Averse to love, but wanting power to hate:
His growing virtues lavish to commend,
She wish'd those virtues in a female friend;
All she could give, she gave; and strove to show,
She was not Acon's, but his passion's foe.
She heard with least reluctance Acon's pain;
Not proud to scorn, nor kind to ease his fate;
Averse to love, but wanting power to hate:
His growing virtues lavish to commend,
She wish'd those virtues in a female friend;
All she could give, she gave; and strove to show,
She was not Acon's, but his passion's foe.
Once on a day, a most auspicious day!
While in his grot the longing Lover lay,
She came, her wonted hour, to bathe undrest;
Misdeeming nought, she loos'd her flowing vest:
Her vest by wanton winds was wav'd aside,
And only fann'd the limbs it us'd to hide:
The needless covering, now, apart she threw,
And gave her spotless form entire to view:
A blaze of charms, unveil'd, the Vestal shows,
And beauties in a bright assemblage rose:
A while her watery picture she survey'd,
Pleas'd with the fair creation which she made;
Then, stepping in, defac'd the rival shade:
Confiding to the stream, around her throng
The liquid waves, and bear the Nymph along;
Her pliant limbs the liquid waves divide,
And shine, like polish'd marble, through the tide;
As lilies, clos'd in chrystal, court the sight
With a new lustre, and a purer white.
While in his grot the longing Lover lay,
She came, her wonted hour, to bathe undrest;
Misdeeming nought, she loos'd her flowing vest:
Her vest by wanton winds was wav'd aside,
And only fann'd the limbs it us'd to hide:
The needless covering, now, apart she threw,
And gave her spotless form entire to view:
A blaze of charms, unveil'd, the Vestal shows,
And beauties in a bright assemblage rose:
A while her watery picture she survey'd,
Pleas'd with the fair creation which she made;
Then, stepping in, defac'd the rival shade:
Confiding to the stream, around her throng
The liquid waves, and bear the Nymph along;
Her pliant limbs the liquid waves divide,
And shine, like polish'd marble, through the tide;
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With a new lustre, and a purer white.
And now her sportive exercise is o'er:
Cool from the stream, she seeks the flowery shore;
Stretch'd on the tender herb, with cowslips spread,
Her ivory arm supports her bending head;
And now soft sleep her softer soul disarms,
And triumphs o'er her unmisgiving charms:
Half naked, cover'd half, supine she lay,
In sight of Acon, and the face of day.
How should th' impatient Youth an object bear,
Distracting sight! so opportunely fair!
Forth from the grot he springs, resolv'd to prove
The lucky hour, if such there be in love;
Resolv'd, howe'er, his certain fate to try;
To live belov'd, or by her scorn to die.
Cool from the stream, she seeks the flowery shore;
Stretch'd on the tender herb, with cowslips spread,
Her ivory arm supports her bending head;
And now soft sleep her softer soul disarms,
And triumphs o'er her unmisgiving charms:
Half naked, cover'd half, supine she lay,
In sight of Acon, and the face of day.
How should th' impatient Youth an object bear,
Distracting sight! so opportunely fair!
Forth from the grot he springs, resolv'd to prove
The lucky hour, if such there be in love;
Resolv'd, howe'er, his certain fate to try;
To live belov'd, or by her scorn to die.
Her nearer beauties give him new surprize:
He views her all at large, except her eyes;
Her eyes alone the power of sleep withdrew;
He view'd her lips, but could not only view;
He gently stoop'd, and, fearful of the bliss,
Ravish'd with doubtful joy a hasty kiss:
The Virgin started, and back sprung the Swain,
With fear half-dying, but his fear was vain;
For 'twas not the kind kiss, that made her start;
'Twas not the kiss, that trembled from her heart.
He views her all at large, except her eyes;
Her eyes alone the power of sleep withdrew;
He view'd her lips, but could not only view;
He gently stoop'd, and, fearful of the bliss,
Ravish'd with doubtful joy a hasty kiss:
The Virgin started, and back sprung the Swain,
With fear half-dying, but his fear was vain;
For 'twas not the kind kiss, that made her start;
'Twas not the kiss, that trembled from her heart.
The slighted God of Love, who long address'd
His shafts in vain against Lavinia's breast,
Had sent a dream, her fancy to dismay,
While fetter'd in the chain of sleep she lay:
Before her stands the image of a rape,
And shews the ravisher in Acon's shape;
The strong delusion paints th' enamour'd Boy,
Eager to seize, and rushing to his joy:
She shudders at the crime, and fain would fly;
Her feet seem fasten'd, and the flight deny:
Now, his fierce grasp she struggles to elude,
Now, breathless lies, and seems to Love subdued:
The phantom with such energy deceiv'd,
Her colour vary'd, and her bosom heav'd,
And broken sighs and troubled murmurs rose;
No dubious tokens of her fancy'd woes.
His shafts in vain against Lavinia's breast,
Had sent a dream, her fancy to dismay,
While fetter'd in the chain of sleep she lay:
Before her stands the image of a rape,
And shews the ravisher in Acon's shape;
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Eager to seize, and rushing to his joy:
She shudders at the crime, and fain would fly;
Her feet seem fasten'd, and the flight deny:
Now, his fierce grasp she struggles to elude,
Now, breathless lies, and seems to Love subdued:
The phantom with such energy deceiv'd,
Her colour vary'd, and her bosom heav'd,
And broken sighs and troubled murmurs rose;
No dubious tokens of her fancy'd woes.
Acon perceiv'd the tumult of her mind,
And what the dream suggested, half divin'd:
What could he do to strengthen the deceit,
And to her waking heart her fears repeat?
Led by his happy guess, and from despair
Grown cunning to contrive, and apt to dare;
His vestments loose he threw, and aim'd to seem
Some lustful God, fresh-rising from the stream:
Panting and new from flushing joys he show'd,
And with dissembled heat his features glow'd:
Th' event may happy or unhappy prove,
Precipitate her hate, or speed his love:
Then boldly let him give his fancy scope;
He needs not fear, who is depriv'd of hope.
And what the dream suggested, half divin'd:
What could he do to strengthen the deceit,
And to her waking heart her fears repeat?
Led by his happy guess, and from despair
Grown cunning to contrive, and apt to dare;
His vestments loose he threw, and aim'd to seem
Some lustful God, fresh-rising from the stream:
Panting and new from flushing joys he show'd,
And with dissembled heat his features glow'd:
Th' event may happy or unhappy prove,
Precipitate her hate, or speed his love:
Then boldly let him give his fancy scope;
He needs not fear, who is depriv'd of hope.
Now from the Virgin's eyes the slumber fell,
And Love aveng'd dissolves the drowsy spell:
Her Lover seen, she sickens at the sight,
And her pale cheeks confess a wild affright:
She shuns his look, her eyes in doubtful tears;
Her eyes see only to confirm her fears;
Her posture, and her dress, the place, the youth,
Assist the fraud, and give it force like truth:
Sunk in confusion, and oppress'd with shame,
She now no longer doubts her injur'd fame:
On rage at first her frantic thoughts are bent;
But soon, alas! her idle rage is spent:
She pines, she droops, desponding of relief,
And all her passions soften into grief:
Speechless, awhile, with downcast looks she lies,
The silent anguish streaming from her eyes:
At length her head th' afflicted Nymph uprears,
And adds these moving accents to her tears:
And Love aveng'd dissolves the drowsy spell:
Her Lover seen, she sickens at the sight,
And her pale cheeks confess a wild affright:
She shuns his look, her eyes in doubtful tears;
Her eyes see only to confirm her fears;
Her posture, and her dress, the place, the youth,
Assist the fraud, and give it force like truth:
Sunk in confusion, and oppress'd with shame,
She now no longer doubts her injur'd fame:
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But soon, alas! her idle rage is spent:
She pines, she droops, desponding of relief,
And all her passions soften into grief:
Speechless, awhile, with downcast looks she lies,
The silent anguish streaming from her eyes:
At length her head th' afflicted Nymph uprears,
And adds these moving accents to her tears:
“If wrongs are doom'd, for crimes unknown, to me;
Yet how do I deserve those wrongs from thee?
Go, base pretender to a Lover's name;
False to thy vows, and traitor to thy flame!
Inhuman Youth, my ravish'd fame restore:
But ravish'd fame, alas! returns no more.
Ye Heavens, if Innocence deserves your care,
Why have you made it fatal to be fair?
Base man the ruin of our sex is born:
The beauteous are his prey, the rest his scorn:
Alike unfortunate, our fate is such,
We please too little, or we please too much.”
Yet how do I deserve those wrongs from thee?
Go, base pretender to a Lover's name;
False to thy vows, and traitor to thy flame!
Inhuman Youth, my ravish'd fame restore:
But ravish'd fame, alas! returns no more.
Ye Heavens, if Innocence deserves your care,
Why have you made it fatal to be fair?
Base man the ruin of our sex is born:
The beauteous are his prey, the rest his scorn:
Alike unfortunate, our fate is such,
We please too little, or we please too much.”
The Cyprian Queen, who gives in Love success,
And guides the lucky seasons of address,
Beheld with pitying eyes Lavinia's grief,
And by a power divine apply'd relief:
In that bless'd hour she taught her favourite swain
The frightful vision kindly to explain,
And gave him skill to plead a Lover's pain.
The long-perplex'd delusion first he clear'd,
And freed her mind from half the ills she fear'd;
Then spoke his passion with such tender art,
The melting inspiration touch'd her heart;
The thoughts that did, before, her terror move,
Are reasons now to sway her soul to Love.
And guides the lucky seasons of address,
Beheld with pitying eyes Lavinia's grief,
And by a power divine apply'd relief:
In that bless'd hour she taught her favourite swain
The frightful vision kindly to explain,
And gave him skill to plead a Lover's pain.
The long-perplex'd delusion first he clear'd,
And freed her mind from half the ills she fear'd;
Then spoke his passion with such tender art,
The melting inspiration touch'd her heart;
The thoughts that did, before, her terror move,
Are reasons now to sway her soul to Love.
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Now, Acon, the coy Nymph is wholly thine:
Nor will her fame permit her to decline
His suit, who saw her, with familiar eyes,
Asleep, and only cover'd with the skies:
The happy Youth saw, through her guiltless shame,
The first-born blushes of an infant flame;
The sweet confusion of her face he view'd,
Her gentle looks, and soft solicitude:
With welcome force he met her yielding charms,
And press'd the faint Resister in his arms.
Nor will her fame permit her to decline
His suit, who saw her, with familiar eyes,
Asleep, and only cover'd with the skies:
The happy Youth saw, through her guiltless shame,
The first-born blushes of an infant flame;
The sweet confusion of her face he view'd,
Her gentle looks, and soft solicitude:
With welcome force he met her yielding charms,
And press'd the faint Resister in his arms.
The vanquish'd Maid soon rose a sparkling Wife;
Rose to new joys, and unexperienc'd life:
Brib'd with the pleasures of her faultless love,
She quits the limpid stream and shady grove,
On the wild taste of virgin bliss refines,
And in the bright assembly brightest shines.
Rose to new joys, and unexperienc'd life:
Brib'd with the pleasures of her faultless love,
She quits the limpid stream and shady grove,
On the wild taste of virgin bliss refines,
And in the bright assembly brightest shines.
| The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted | |