Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The lad, who holds his honour fast,
Writhes long beneath the scourging cane
In silence—but lets slip at last
A little stifled cry of pain:
And I—who hold this doctrine good,
That Silence oft reproveth best—
Send from an all-unwilling breast
A little murmur, long subdued!

Oh! rich in every charm that breathes
Enchantment on Love's plighted vows!
Oh! skilled to bind the sweetest wreaths
That ever crowned Love's happy brows!
How is't that petty Wrath destroys
So oft thy smile by frownlets crossed?
How is't thy sweet, sweet voice so oft
Doth vex my heart with wrangling noise?

“Truth by true love be not denied!”
(Thou answerest in a merry mood)

“And true is that reproach implied
“In thy low murmur long subdued;
“But love, if Love a changeling be,
“Now warm and kind, now cross and cool,
“Love follows but the golden rule
“Of pleasing by variety!

“Heaven's face, so fair, knows ceaseless change,
“And ceaseless change fair Ocean knows;
“Nature's fair voice delights to range,
“Each breeze a manifold music blows;
“All sights and sounds the Powers above
“Vouchsafe us vary, and are fair;
“And those same Powers, to make Love fair,
“Denied monotony to Love!”

Arch-sophist! jester! Thou for this
Shalt suffer, trust me, by and bye;
Trust me, I know a cruel kiss!
And thou shalt suffer by and bye;
Meanwhile the Muse, truth-loving Muse,
Hearing thy voice as she swept by,
Paused—and now prompts an apt reply,
Which gives to thee and Love your dues.

Wide-natured, manifold in change,
Eagle and nightingale and dove,

Endowed with voice of boundless range,
—The Powers who made him meant that Love,
Proud king, meek wretch, or merry loon,
Should chaunt a million airs divine;
They never meant that Love, like thine,
Should sometimes carol out of tune!