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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Thyrsis and Daphne,
A Tale;
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 | The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted |  |
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Thyrsis and Daphne, A Tale;
In Imitation of CATULLUS.
Thyrsis, the darling of the Fair,
And Daphne, every shepherd's care,
To mutual joys did Love ordain;
And either wore the other's chain:
Their breasts with pleasing tumults tost,
All thoughts in thoughts of Love they lost,
Each hour grew fonder than before,
And every moment doated more:
In groves whose verdures banish day,
In grots where trembling echoes play,
In arbrets green with frequent shade,
Beneath the spreading mulberry laid,
Or on brook-margins, strew'd with flowers,
They joy'd to pass the silent hours;
The silent hours, the brooks, the groves,
Recorded their unalter'd loves.
And Daphne, every shepherd's care,
To mutual joys did Love ordain;
And either wore the other's chain:
Their breasts with pleasing tumults tost,
All thoughts in thoughts of Love they lost,
Each hour grew fonder than before,
And every moment doated more:
In groves whose verdures banish day,
In grots where trembling echoes play,
In arbrets green with frequent shade,
Beneath the spreading mulberry laid,
Or on brook-margins, strew'd with flowers,
They joy'd to pass the silent hours;
The silent hours, the brooks, the groves,
Recorded their unalter'd loves.
There is an hour, by Fate assign'd,
When Nature works on Beauty's mind;
A season, lucky to persuade;
A moment, when the chastest maid,
That feels of Love the melting pains,
Yields to the laws by which he reigns:
Nor watchful guards, nor bars of steel,
Nor cloysters rais'd by Papal zeal,
Can ward the charming Virgin's doom,
When once her hour of bliss is come:
Such was this charming Virgin's fate,
And every Nymph finds soon or late.
From Thyrsis' eye in vain she strove
To hide the longings of her love;
He faw her passion in her face,
And strain'd her in a strict embrace.
When Nature works on Beauty's mind;
A season, lucky to persuade;
A moment, when the chastest maid,
That feels of Love the melting pains,
Yields to the laws by which he reigns:
Nor watchful guards, nor bars of steel,
Nor cloysters rais'd by Papal zeal,
Can ward the charming Virgin's doom,
When once her hour of bliss is come:
Such was this charming Virgin's fate,
And every Nymph finds soon or late.
From Thyrsis' eye in vain she strove
To hide the longings of her love;
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And strain'd her in a strict embrace.
Behold him clasp'd in Daphne's arms,
The lovely spoiler of her charms!
Abandon'd to his fierce desire
He lies, and trembles to expire:
When, “Oh!” cried she, “my better part!
“Kind inmate of my faithful heart!
“O give not yet desire its sway;
“Soul of my eyes! my Thyrsis, stay!
“Entranc'd together let us lie;
“Together, Thyrsis, let us die!”
The lovely spoiler of her charms!
Abandon'd to his fierce desire
He lies, and trembles to expire:
When, “Oh!” cried she, “my better part!
“Kind inmate of my faithful heart!
“O give not yet desire its sway;
“Soul of my eyes! my Thyrsis, stay!
“Entranc'd together let us lie;
“Together, Thyrsis, let us die!”
With sweet surprize the Shepherd heard
Prayers in such soft distress preferr'd:
And, though Love gives but short delays,
And, travers'd, from his channel strays,
Yet, with those melting whispers press'd,
That shudder'd to his inmost breast,
He strove obedient to refrain,
And check'd the pressing joy with pain.
Prayers in such soft distress preferr'd:
And, though Love gives but short delays,
And, travers'd, from his channel strays,
Yet, with those melting whispers press'd,
That shudder'd to his inmost breast,
He strove obedient to refrain,
And check'd the pressing joy with pain.
What pictures now his mind employ,
In this delightful pause of joy!
What thoughts the soul of Thyrsis rais'd!
A moment on her eyes he gaz'd,
A moment sooth'd her kind complaint,
And languish'd in the still restraint;
At length, indulgent nature sway'd
To equal warmth the tender Maid.
In this delightful pause of joy!
What thoughts the soul of Thyrsis rais'd!
A moment on her eyes he gaz'd,
A moment sooth'd her kind complaint,
And languish'd in the still restraint;
At length, indulgent nature sway'd
To equal warmth the tender Maid.
“Ah! now, my blooming Boy!” she cries,
“Ah! now, my life! thy Daphne dies.”
“Ah! now, my life! thy Daphne dies.”
“And I the keen impulse obey,”
Reply'd the Youth, and died away.
Reply'd the Youth, and died away.
Thus the fond pair resign'd their breath,
And died a transient amorous death;
Returning life they counted pain,
And wish'd and sigh'd to die again.
And died a transient amorous death;
Returning life they counted pain,
And wish'd and sigh'd to die again.
| The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted | |