The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
| III, IV. |
| V. |
| VI, VII. |
 | VIII, IX. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
269
A STUDY FROM THE ANTIQUE.
Behold, my love, the curious gem
Within this simple ring of gold;
'Tis hallow'd by the touch of them
Who liv'd in classic hours of old.
Within this simple ring of gold;
'Tis hallow'd by the touch of them
Who liv'd in classic hours of old.
Some fair Athenian girl, perhaps,
Upon her hand this gem display'd,
Nor thought that time's succeeding lapse
Should see it grace a lovelier maid.
Upon her hand this gem display'd,
Nor thought that time's succeeding lapse
Should see it grace a lovelier maid.
Look, dearest, what a sweet design!
The more we gaze, it charms the more;
Come—closer bring that cheek to mine,
And trace with me its beauties o'er.
The more we gaze, it charms the more;
Come—closer bring that cheek to mine,
And trace with me its beauties o'er.
Thou seest, it is a simple youth
By some enamour'd nymph embrac'd—
Look, as she leans, and say in sooth
Is not that hand most fondly plac'd?
By some enamour'd nymph embrac'd—
Look, as she leans, and say in sooth
Is not that hand most fondly plac'd?
270
Upon his curled head behind
It seems in careless play to lie ,
Yet presses gently, half inclin'd
To bring the truant's lip more nigh.
It seems in careless play to lie ,
Yet presses gently, half inclin'd
To bring the truant's lip more nigh.
Oh happy maid! too happy boy!
The one so fond and little loath,
The other yielding slow to joy—
Oh rare, indeed, but blissful both.
The one so fond and little loath,
The other yielding slow to joy—
Oh rare, indeed, but blissful both.
Imagine, love, that I am he,
And just as warm as he is chilling;
Imagine, too, that thou art she,
But quite as coy as she is willing:
And just as warm as he is chilling;
Imagine, too, that thou art she,
But quite as coy as she is willing:
So may we try the graceful way
In which their gentle arms are twin'd,
And thus, like her, my hand I lay
Upon thy wreathed locks behind:
In which their gentle arms are twin'd,
And thus, like her, my hand I lay
Upon thy wreathed locks behind:
271
And thus I feel thee breathing sweet,
As slow to mine thy head I move;
And thus our lips together meet,
And thus,—and thus,—I kiss thee, love.
As slow to mine thy head I move;
And thus our lips together meet,
And thus,—and thus,—I kiss thee, love.
Somewhat like the symplegma of Cupid and Psyche at Florence, in which the position of Psyche's hand is finely and delicately expressive of affection. See the Museum Florentinum, tom. ii. tab. 43, 44. There are few subjects on which poetry could be more interestingly employed than in illustrating some of these ancient statues and gems.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |