The Works of Tibullus Containing his Love-Elegies. Translated by Mr Dart. To which is added, The Life of the Author; with Observations on the Original Design of Elegiack Verse; and the Characters of the most Celebrated Greek, Latin and English Elegiack Poets |
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| I. |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| II. |
Book II.
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| III. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| IV. |
| IV. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
 | The Works of Tibullus |  |
113
Book II.
ELEGY I.
Lustrations we for Fields and Fruits prepare,
Rites handed down from ancient Times that were.
Be silent all, O Vintage, Pow'r divine!
Hither, with Clusters from the Purple Vine:
Hither, O Ceres, to our Rites repair;
And bind with Wreaths of Corn thy radiant Hair.
Rites handed down from ancient Times that were.
Be silent all, O Vintage, Pow'r divine!
Hither, with Clusters from the Purple Vine:
Hither, O Ceres, to our Rites repair;
And bind with Wreaths of Corn thy radiant Hair.
114
On this religious Day, and solemn Feast,
Rest let the Ground, and let the Peasant rest;
No toilsome Plough, nor tiresome Labour Mind,
The Oxen from their weighty Yoaks unbind,
And let them at the heap'd up Rack be fed,
With each a Flow'ry Garland on his Head.
Let all to these religious Duties come,
And may no Spinster ply the weaving Loom.
But hence, far from these Altars, far remove,
Vot'ries last Night to Venus, and to Love;
Far from these pure unspotted Rites retire,
The Gods are pure, and Purity require;
Before the Pow'rs in spotless Garments stand,
And sprinkle Water with unsullied Hand.
Observe the Victim Lamb his Footsteps bend
To flaming Altars, while the Crowd attend
In due Procession, and unspotted wear
A Wreath of Olive Boughs to bind their Hair.
Rest let the Ground, and let the Peasant rest;
No toilsome Plough, nor tiresome Labour Mind,
The Oxen from their weighty Yoaks unbind,
And let them at the heap'd up Rack be fed,
With each a Flow'ry Garland on his Head.
Let all to these religious Duties come,
And may no Spinster ply the weaving Loom.
But hence, far from these Altars, far remove,
Vot'ries last Night to Venus, and to Love;
Far from these pure unspotted Rites retire,
The Gods are pure, and Purity require;
Before the Pow'rs in spotless Garments stand,
And sprinkle Water with unsullied Hand.
Observe the Victim Lamb his Footsteps bend
To flaming Altars, while the Crowd attend
In due Procession, and unspotted wear
A Wreath of Olive Boughs to bind their Hair.
115
Gods, Patron Gods, we purge the Fields and Swains,
Drive all approaching Evils from our Plains.
Let no fallacious Weeds infest our Grain,
To make the Peasant's Hopes and Labours vain.
Secure the Lamb, although his Pace be slow,
From prowling Wolves the swifter-footed Foe:
Then the glad Peasant, with delighted Eyes,
Shall see his close-stow'd Barns and Granaries;
Then shall he make the rising Flames aspire,
And heap large Logs upon his glowing Fire;
While all the Houshold with their sportive Play,
Shall to the Lares celebrate the Day,
And artfully before their Hearthy Shrine.
Shall slender Twigs in little Hovels twine.
May this succeed; see in glad Bowls they bear
The Intrails; see, the Gods accept our Pray'r.
Drive all approaching Evils from our Plains.
Let no fallacious Weeds infest our Grain,
To make the Peasant's Hopes and Labours vain.
Secure the Lamb, although his Pace be slow,
From prowling Wolves the swifter-footed Foe:
Then the glad Peasant, with delighted Eyes,
Shall see his close-stow'd Barns and Granaries;
Then shall he make the rising Flames aspire,
And heap large Logs upon his glowing Fire;
While all the Houshold with their sportive Play,
Shall to the Lares celebrate the Day,
And artfully before their Hearthy Shrine.
Shall slender Twigs in little Hovels twine.
May this succeed; see in glad Bowls they bear
The Intrails; see, the Gods accept our Pray'r.
116
Now bring me Old Falernian Wine to raise
My Mirth, Wine seal'd in ancient Consuls Days;
Pierce me a Cask full with the Chion Store,
On such a Day the Wine profusely pour.
'Tis barb'rous not to drink on such a Day,
'Till staggering Feet can ill direct their Way;
But let each Man Messala's Health commend,
And name to every Glass my absent Friend;
Noble by Birth, with growing Honours fill'd
By Gallick Triumphs, and the vanquish'd Field;
This Verse with Favour hear, those Thanks which rise
From Country Swains to rural Deities.
My Mirth, Wine seal'd in ancient Consuls Days;
Pierce me a Cask full with the Chion Store,
On such a Day the Wine profusely pour.
'Tis barb'rous not to drink on such a Day,
'Till staggering Feet can ill direct their Way;
But let each Man Messala's Health commend,
And name to every Glass my absent Friend;
Noble by Birth, with growing Honours fill'd
By Gallick Triumphs, and the vanquish'd Field;
This Verse with Favour hear, those Thanks which rise
From Country Swains to rural Deities.
I sing the Country, and the Sylvan reign,
When fav'ring Gods did spreading Oaks ordain
To shake the Acorns down for Humane Good,
To drive off Hunger with a wholsome Food.
First taught by them, their lowly Bow'rs they made
Of winding Willows, with a Leavy Shade;
They taught to tame the Oxen by their Skill,
And ease the heavy Wain with whirling Wheel.
When fav'ring Gods did spreading Oaks ordain
To shake the Acorns down for Humane Good,
To drive off Hunger with a wholsome Food.
117
Of winding Willows, with a Leavy Shade;
They taught to tame the Oxen by their Skill,
And ease the heavy Wain with whirling Wheel.
Then savage Food they left, then Apples spread,
And wat'ry Streams were round the Gardens lead;
Then Golden Clusters the glad Vines produce,
By treading Feet th' exprest the luscious Juice,
Then Water mix'd with Wine began its Use.
Fields Corn produce, when Syrius Star appears,
And Annual Harvests wave their Yellow Ears.
In Country Gardens the laborious Bee
Selects the Sweets of Flowers with Indust'ry;
Rifles the Spring, and sucks the od'rous Bloom,
To stock with luscious Food his waxen Comb.
The Farmer tir'd with ploughing up the Plains,
Gives a small Respite to his Toils and Pains,
And joyous roars out rude unpolish'd Rhimes,
With artless Measures, and repeated Chimes:
Before the Gods with Garlands dress'd his Skill,
He tries and fills with Notes the rural Quill.
The Country Farmer painted o'er with Red,
To Bacchus first the artless Chorus lead;
And for Reward had from the numerous Stock
The Leader-Goat: A Goat then lead the Flock.
Here first Spring-Flowers the Youth in Chaplets bound,
And with soft Wreaths the ancient Lares crown'd.
In Country Fields the Sheep their Fleeces bear
The Wooll, the tender Girl's peculiar Care.
The Distaff fill'd with this, employs the Maid,
While o'er her Thumb she twirls the twisted Thread:
And as th' industrious Spinster sings a Song,
The whirling Reel keeps Measure with her Tongue.
Cupid was born in Country Fields and Meads,
Where the wild Mare with untam'd Fury treads;
There exercis'd with uninstructed Bow,
But, ah! how skill'd! and how experienc'd now!
Nor Shoots at random Flocks, and Beasts, as then,
But fixes Maids, and tames audacious Men.
He makes the Young Man slight the tempting Gold,
And low-priz'd Riches, he commands the Old.—
Humbly a Woman's haughty Pride to bear,
And speak mean Soothings to appease the Fair;
Led on by him, the Girl her Plot conceals,
And to th' expecting Youth at Midnight steals.
The doubtful Path her tim'rous Feet essay,
And with her Hand sh' explores the dusky Way.
Wretched are they whom Love with fierce Desires,
Inflames and scorches with enraging Fires.
But blest the Man to whom he gently brings
Calm Love, with waving Plumes and downy Wings.
O! sacred Power the Feasts which we provide
Attend, but lay thy dang'rous Shafts aside;
Dismiss from Use thy ill-designing Bow,
And far, O! far, thy flaming Torches throw.
And wat'ry Streams were round the Gardens lead;
Then Golden Clusters the glad Vines produce,
By treading Feet th' exprest the luscious Juice,
Then Water mix'd with Wine began its Use.
Fields Corn produce, when Syrius Star appears,
And Annual Harvests wave their Yellow Ears.
In Country Gardens the laborious Bee
Selects the Sweets of Flowers with Indust'ry;
Rifles the Spring, and sucks the od'rous Bloom,
To stock with luscious Food his waxen Comb.
The Farmer tir'd with ploughing up the Plains,
Gives a small Respite to his Toils and Pains,
And joyous roars out rude unpolish'd Rhimes,
With artless Measures, and repeated Chimes:
118
He tries and fills with Notes the rural Quill.
The Country Farmer painted o'er with Red,
To Bacchus first the artless Chorus lead;
And for Reward had from the numerous Stock
The Leader-Goat: A Goat then lead the Flock.
Here first Spring-Flowers the Youth in Chaplets bound,
And with soft Wreaths the ancient Lares crown'd.
In Country Fields the Sheep their Fleeces bear
The Wooll, the tender Girl's peculiar Care.
The Distaff fill'd with this, employs the Maid,
While o'er her Thumb she twirls the twisted Thread:
And as th' industrious Spinster sings a Song,
The whirling Reel keeps Measure with her Tongue.
Cupid was born in Country Fields and Meads,
Where the wild Mare with untam'd Fury treads;
There exercis'd with uninstructed Bow,
But, ah! how skill'd! and how experienc'd now!
119
But fixes Maids, and tames audacious Men.
He makes the Young Man slight the tempting Gold,
And low-priz'd Riches, he commands the Old.—
Humbly a Woman's haughty Pride to bear,
And speak mean Soothings to appease the Fair;
Led on by him, the Girl her Plot conceals,
And to th' expecting Youth at Midnight steals.
The doubtful Path her tim'rous Feet essay,
And with her Hand sh' explores the dusky Way.
Wretched are they whom Love with fierce Desires,
Inflames and scorches with enraging Fires.
But blest the Man to whom he gently brings
Calm Love, with waving Plumes and downy Wings.
O! sacred Power the Feasts which we provide
Attend, but lay thy dang'rous Shafts aside;
Dismiss from Use thy ill-designing Bow,
And far, O! far, thy flaming Torches throw.
120
And you, O celebrate the God with Pray'r,
And call him loud to mind your Fleecy Care,
But to your self so low that none may hear:
Or you may venture to invoke aloud,
None can distinguish Pray'rs which in the Crowd
Are by the laughing Sports and Shoutings drown'd,
And by th' inflated Pipes promiscuous sound.
And call him loud to mind your Fleecy Care,
But to your self so low that none may hear:
Or you may venture to invoke aloud,
None can distinguish Pray'rs which in the Crowd
Are by the laughing Sports and Shoutings drown'd,
And by th' inflated Pipes promiscuous sound.
Sport on, for coming Night as Day declines,
Her sable Coursers to her Chariot joins,
Whilst all the starry shining Train advance,
And round their Mother's Wheels in Chorus dance;
Then follows silent Sleep, with dusky Wings
Involv'd, and fleeting Midnight Visions brings.
Her sable Coursers to her Chariot joins,
Whilst all the starry shining Train advance,
And round their Mother's Wheels in Chorus dance;
Then follows silent Sleep, with dusky Wings
Involv'd, and fleeting Midnight Visions brings.
121
ELEGY II.
You that attend with fav'ring Silence hear,See at the Altar votive Gifts appear.
Burn pious Incense, burn the rich Perfumes,
Which from the soft Arabian's Country comes.
May the kind Genius be in Presence here
To view the sacred Rites, and Honours share;
Wearing soft flow'ry Chaplets 'round his Head,
Let Ointments from his Locks their Odours shed:
Offer up plenteous Cates before his Shrine,
And pour Libations out of Purple Wine.
May he propitious be to your Desire,
Grant all your Vows, and give what you require.
Ask briskly, Man, why do you make this stay?
The Genius hears, then why this long Delay?
I guess your Wish, 'tis that your Wife may prove
A chast Preserver of unalter'd Love,
The Gods beforehand knew the Wish you move.
122
That lab'ring Peasants turn with restless Toil:
Rather than this you'd all the Gems refuse
Which Eastern Sands and happy Seas produce;
Where first Aurora does the East survey,
And spreads her Morning Blushes o'er the Sea.
Alas, your Prayers are slighted by the Sky,
Oh! how I wish that Love would hither fly;
Spread out his Plumes, and with a flutt'ring Wing,
The Marriage Chains, and Golden Cæstus bring;
Chains which for ever bind and ne'er decay
When Age deforms and spread his feeble Gray.
May this auspicious Day for ever be
Attended with the happiest Augury.
May Juno bless thee in thy Marriage Joys,
And give a smiling Race of prat'ling Boys.
123
ELEGY III.
Dear Friend, my Mistress at her Country Seat
Enjoys the Hamlets, and the cool Retreat;
Who that has common Tenderness can stay
In the dull lonely Town when she's away.
Venus, to taste the Joys the Country yields,
Sports in the smiling Meads, and laughing Fields:
Ev'n Love himself about the Meadows plays,
Forgets his own, and learns the rustick Phrase.
Enjoys the Hamlets, and the cool Retreat;
Who that has common Tenderness can stay
In the dull lonely Town when she's away.
Venus, to taste the Joys the Country yields,
Sports in the smiling Meads, and laughing Fields:
Ev'n Love himself about the Meadows plays,
Forgets his own, and learns the rustick Phrase.
Ah me! How would I with a willing Hand
Direct the Hoe, and turn the restiff Land!
Urge on the crooked Plow, and lash the Teams,
Nor fear the scorching Heat, and sult'ry Beams;
Bear all the Hardships of the rural Trade,
So I might there enjoy the lovely Maid.
Direct the Hoe, and turn the restiff Land!
Urge on the crooked Plow, and lash the Teams,
Nor fear the scorching Heat, and sult'ry Beams;
Bear all the Hardships of the rural Trade,
So I might there enjoy the lovely Maid.
124
Thus Great Apollo ever young and fair,
Unbent himself to tend Admetus' Care:
Vain was his Vocal Shell to ease his Grief,
Nor could his flowing Hair afford Relief,
Nor healing Herbs could sooth the smarting Pain,
When Love's the Cause, the med'c'nal Pow'rs are vain.
His Sister from her wheeling Orb of Light
Look'd down, and often blush'd to see the Sight;
When lonely thro' the dusky Fields he'd rome,
Wet with the Dew, to drive the Cattle Home.
Oft in the lowly Vale and watry Ground
He sung, the hanging Hills return the Sound;
While lowing Oxen interrupt the Song,
And drown the heavenly Accents of his Tongue.
Oft Princes came, and all th' enquiring Train,
Trembling at future Fears to seek his Fane:
In vain they ask, and offer Rites Divine,
A solitary Silence fills the Shrine.
With Grief Latona saw her Off-spring's Head,
With Hair ensnarl'd, and matted Tresses spread.
Those heavenly Curls, which round his Shoulders flew,
And ev'n from Juno claim'd their Praises due.
His uncomb'd Head, and tangl'd Locks, who e'er
Had seen, no more would wish Apollo's Hair.
Where, Phæbus! where are all thy Honours flown
Of Delos, and of Delphick Pytho's Town?
For Love commands thee to a less Abode,
And in a lowly Hut confines the God.
Unbent himself to tend Admetus' Care:
Vain was his Vocal Shell to ease his Grief,
Nor could his flowing Hair afford Relief,
Nor healing Herbs could sooth the smarting Pain,
When Love's the Cause, the med'c'nal Pow'rs are vain.
His Sister from her wheeling Orb of Light
Look'd down, and often blush'd to see the Sight;
When lonely thro' the dusky Fields he'd rome,
Wet with the Dew, to drive the Cattle Home.
Oft in the lowly Vale and watry Ground
He sung, the hanging Hills return the Sound;
While lowing Oxen interrupt the Song,
And drown the heavenly Accents of his Tongue.
Oft Princes came, and all th' enquiring Train,
Trembling at future Fears to seek his Fane:
In vain they ask, and offer Rites Divine,
A solitary Silence fills the Shrine.
125
With Hair ensnarl'd, and matted Tresses spread.
Those heavenly Curls, which round his Shoulders flew,
And ev'n from Juno claim'd their Praises due.
His uncomb'd Head, and tangl'd Locks, who e'er
Had seen, no more would wish Apollo's Hair.
Where, Phæbus! where are all thy Honours flown
Of Delos, and of Delphick Pytho's Town?
For Love commands thee to a less Abode,
And in a lowly Hut confines the God.
Bless'd Times when Gods did Venus Laws adore,
And own'd in Publick her superiour Power.
'Tis now a Jest, a Jest let me too prove,
Rather than be a God, and not to love.
And own'd in Publick her superiour Power.
'Tis now a Jest, a Jest let me too prove,
Rather than be a God, and not to love.
But you whom Love surveys with angry Eye
Attend his Wars, and pitch your Tent with me.
This Iron Age for Spoil its Arts employs,
Nor prizes Venus and her tender Joys.
Though many Dangers tend the Spoiler's Trade,
And num'rous Ills the daring Man invade;
Spoil sheaths the Warrior Train in hostile Arms,
And hence arose a world of various Harms.
Hence Blood and Murder made their first Essay,
And Death discover'd hence a shorter Way.
Spoil urges on to tempt th' uncertain Main,
And slight the Dangers of the Sea for Gain:
Nay, doubles all the Dangers and the Fear
When threatning Prows and Naval Fights appear.
The Spoiler covets the extended Plain,
Whose Herbage may his num'rous Flocks maintain:
He seeks the Stone in distant Quarries vein'd,
And the huge Column for his Seat ordain'd.
A thousand Yoak of Oxen draw the Freight,
And Crowds surpriz'd, admire the pond'rous Weight:
His Moles stupenduous, curb th' unmanag'd Sea,
That Fish may winter in the quiet Bay.
But may neat Earthen Vessels serve too thee,
Small chearful Meals in humble Decency.
Attend his Wars, and pitch your Tent with me.
126
Nor prizes Venus and her tender Joys.
Though many Dangers tend the Spoiler's Trade,
And num'rous Ills the daring Man invade;
Spoil sheaths the Warrior Train in hostile Arms,
And hence arose a world of various Harms.
Hence Blood and Murder made their first Essay,
And Death discover'd hence a shorter Way.
Spoil urges on to tempt th' uncertain Main,
And slight the Dangers of the Sea for Gain:
Nay, doubles all the Dangers and the Fear
When threatning Prows and Naval Fights appear.
The Spoiler covets the extended Plain,
Whose Herbage may his num'rous Flocks maintain:
He seeks the Stone in distant Quarries vein'd,
And the huge Column for his Seat ordain'd.
A thousand Yoak of Oxen draw the Freight,
And Crowds surpriz'd, admire the pond'rous Weight:
127
That Fish may winter in the quiet Bay.
But may neat Earthen Vessels serve too thee,
Small chearful Meals in humble Decency.
But, Ah! I see! too plainly see! the Fair
Make Wealth and sordid Gain their chiefest Care;
Then Spoils your useful Aid will I employ,
Since Love requires Wealth, that Wealth he shall enjoy.
Then, Nemesis, by my Profuseness gay,
May through the City and the crouded Way,
Conspicuous in my Gifts, the shining Spoils display.
She shall the Vestments subtle Texture wear,
By Cöan Women wrought with artful Care;
Shot thro' with Gold, and tissu'd richly o'er,
Slaves shall be sent for from the Eastern Shore:
The tawny Eunuch shall attend her State,
And Sun-burnt Indians shall around her wait.
The Dyes shall struggle on her Vestments spread,
And Africk's Vi'let strive with Tyrian Red.
'Tis Truth I spake, she should a Kingdom sway,
And Crouds of fetter'd Servants should obey.
Make Wealth and sordid Gain their chiefest Care;
Then Spoils your useful Aid will I employ,
Since Love requires Wealth, that Wealth he shall enjoy.
Then, Nemesis, by my Profuseness gay,
May through the City and the crouded Way,
Conspicuous in my Gifts, the shining Spoils display.
She shall the Vestments subtle Texture wear,
By Cöan Women wrought with artful Care;
Shot thro' with Gold, and tissu'd richly o'er,
Slaves shall be sent for from the Eastern Shore:
The tawny Eunuch shall attend her State,
And Sun-burnt Indians shall around her wait.
128
And Africk's Vi'let strive with Tyrian Red.
'Tis Truth I spake, she should a Kingdom sway,
And Crouds of fetter'd Servants should obey.
But you, O Harvest, which detains my Dear,
May the unfertile Earth for Plenty bear
The small Produce of an ungrateful Year.
And you kind Fost'rer of the Vineyard Store,
Soft Bacchus fill thy much-lov'd Vatt no more.
'Tis wrong the Fair should lie in Fields obscure,
Joys less than them even thy own Wines procure.
Perish the Fruit, and fade the rural Field,
Rather than beauteous Maids be there conceal'd.
Let Mast, as once it did, supply the Board,
And Springs, as once, a Native Drink afford.
Of Old our Fathers fed on Mast alone;
Then Love was commōn, nor was Envy known.
They always lov'd, they'd nothing else to do,
Nor Corn had they to reap, nor Fields to plough.
But Venus fav'ring those intent on Love,
Led to the shady Vale, and silent Grove.
No Dog was then to fright with op'ning Roar;
No fasten'd Portal, nor obstructing Door.
How happy wou'd it be should Fates ordain
Those quiet Days, and pleasing Rules again!
May the unfertile Earth for Plenty bear
The small Produce of an ungrateful Year.
And you kind Fost'rer of the Vineyard Store,
Soft Bacchus fill thy much-lov'd Vatt no more.
'Tis wrong the Fair should lie in Fields obscure,
Joys less than them even thy own Wines procure.
Perish the Fruit, and fade the rural Field,
Rather than beauteous Maids be there conceal'd.
Let Mast, as once it did, supply the Board,
And Springs, as once, a Native Drink afford.
Of Old our Fathers fed on Mast alone;
Then Love was commōn, nor was Envy known.
They always lov'd, they'd nothing else to do,
Nor Corn had they to reap, nor Fields to plough.
129
Led to the shady Vale, and silent Grove.
No Dog was then to fright with op'ning Roar;
No fasten'd Portal, nor obstructing Door.
How happy wou'd it be should Fates ordain
Those quiet Days, and pleasing Rules again!
Oh! perish all the Forms of study'd Dress
Of Woman's Pride, and polish'd Artfulness.
Would that as in the former Times each Maid
Was meanly dress'd, and carelesly array'd;
Since Nemesis lies hid in Privacy,
Since very rarely I, the Maid can see.
Wretch! that I am, what serves it me to wear
A gay Attire, or show a courtly Air?
Of Woman's Pride, and polish'd Artfulness.
Would that as in the former Times each Maid
Was meanly dress'd, and carelesly array'd;
Since Nemesis lies hid in Privacy,
Since very rarely I, the Maid can see.
Wretch! that I am, what serves it me to wear
A gay Attire, or show a courtly Air?
Bring me where I may Nemesis obey,
Where I may see her, and allow her Sway:
I'll plough the Land, so I may view the Maid,
Nor scorn the Hardships of the rural Trade.
Where I may see her, and allow her Sway:
I'll plough the Land, so I may view the Maid,
Nor scorn the Hardships of the rural Trade.
114
ELEGY IV.
I have my Mistress, and my Chains in view,
My Native much-lov'd Liberty adieu.
To me a cruel Servitude's assign'd,
In Gives constrain'd, in heavy Chains confin'd;
Fetters, with cruel Love, will ne'er unbind:
And whether I deserve the fatal Ill,
If culpable, or no, Love rages still.
My Native much-lov'd Liberty adieu.
To me a cruel Servitude's assign'd,
In Gives constrain'd, in heavy Chains confin'd;
Fetters, with cruel Love, will ne'er unbind:
And whether I deserve the fatal Ill,
If culpable, or no, Love rages still.
I burn, I burn, Oh! far thy Eyes remove,
Too cruel Maid, the Torches of my Love;
Oh! that uncapable of Griefs like these,
Or that Insensibility were Ease.
Ah! how much rather on some Mountain's Brow
I'd stand a Stone o'erspread with Drifts of Snow.
Or that a Rock expos'd to Storms I stood
Lash'd by the Waves, and by th' outragious Flood:
Now bitter is the Day, bitter the Light,
More bitter still the lonely Shades of Night.
O'er every Hour is Bitterness diffus'd,
In every Cup is bitter Gall infus'd;
Nor Elegies avail with moving Vein,
Nor Phæbus, Author of the Vocal Strain;
For only Gifts can please the greedy Maid,
I must to Presents have recourse for Aid:
Hence then ye Muses, and the Vocal Train,
If helpless you to ease a Lover's Pain.
I not invoke you to inspire my Lays,
To sing of Wars, or sound the Warrior's Praise;
Nor trace the radiant Circuit of the Sun,
Nor mark when he his wheeling Course has done,
The oblique Journey of the silent Moon.
All the Advantage I by Verse would find,
Is but Access to find my Mistress kind:
If useless you a boon like this to gain;
Begone, ye Muses, hence, your Powers are vain.
Too cruel Maid, the Torches of my Love;
Oh! that uncapable of Griefs like these,
Or that Insensibility were Ease.
Ah! how much rather on some Mountain's Brow
I'd stand a Stone o'erspread with Drifts of Snow.
Or that a Rock expos'd to Storms I stood
Lash'd by the Waves, and by th' outragious Flood:
Now bitter is the Day, bitter the Light,
More bitter still the lonely Shades of Night.
115
In every Cup is bitter Gall infus'd;
Nor Elegies avail with moving Vein,
Nor Phæbus, Author of the Vocal Strain;
For only Gifts can please the greedy Maid,
I must to Presents have recourse for Aid:
Hence then ye Muses, and the Vocal Train,
If helpless you to ease a Lover's Pain.
I not invoke you to inspire my Lays,
To sing of Wars, or sound the Warrior's Praise;
Nor trace the radiant Circuit of the Sun,
Nor mark when he his wheeling Course has done,
The oblique Journey of the silent Moon.
All the Advantage I by Verse would find,
Is but Access to find my Mistress kind:
If useless you a boon like this to gain;
Begone, ye Muses, hence, your Powers are vain.
But I by Blood or Rob'ry must prepare
Dishonest Presents to oblige the Fair;
That I no more may stretch'd, and weeping wait
A prostrate Suppliant at th' obdurate Gate;
Or I must steal the Gods suspended Signs,
Their Altars rob, and pilfer from their Shrines;
But most from Venus' sacred Trophies tear,
She of the Rapine claims the largest Share.
'Tis she compells me to the wicked Deed,
Twas she, the mercenary Maid decreed.
Dishonest Presents to oblige the Fair;
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A prostrate Suppliant at th' obdurate Gate;
Or I must steal the Gods suspended Signs,
Their Altars rob, and pilfer from their Shrines;
But most from Venus' sacred Trophies tear,
She of the Rapine claims the largest Share.
'Tis she compells me to the wicked Deed,
Twas she, the mercenary Maid decreed.
Oh! may the Wretch eternally be curst
Who dug for Gems, and found green Em'ralds first.
Who fram'd the glowing Robe for Woman's Pride,
And snowy Wool in Tyrian Purple dy'd:
He gave the greedy Mind, the maid he dress'd
In the thin Texture of the Cöan Vest.
The Pearl with lucid Orb the shining Stores,
He cull'd from ruddy Seas, and shelly Shores.
Hence Ills arose, then Doors first knew the Key,
And Dogs began to guard the fasten'd Way.
But bring your Price, come with a Gift prepar'd,
And you may quickly influence the Guard.
The Key no more forbids the op'ning Door,
And ev'n th' obliging Dog will bark no more.
Who dug for Gems, and found green Em'ralds first.
Who fram'd the glowing Robe for Woman's Pride,
And snowy Wool in Tyrian Purple dy'd:
He gave the greedy Mind, the maid he dress'd
In the thin Texture of the Cöan Vest.
The Pearl with lucid Orb the shining Stores,
He cull'd from ruddy Seas, and shelly Shores.
Hence Ills arose, then Doors first knew the Key,
And Dogs began to guard the fasten'd Way.
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And you may quickly influence the Guard.
The Key no more forbids the op'ning Door,
And ev'n th' obliging Dog will bark no more.
Ah! whosoever unthinkingly confin'd,
A heavenly Body, and an earthly Mind,
He with one Good a many Ills conjoin'd.
Hence Chiding first began, and Tears, and Blame,
And Love from this receiv'd an evil Name.
A heavenly Body, and an earthly Mind,
He with one Good a many Ills conjoin'd.
Hence Chiding first began, and Tears, and Blame,
And Love from this receiv'd an evil Name.
But you who aw'd by Interest, sway'd by Gain,
Reject the faithful Vot'ries of your Train;
May greedy Flames, the cursed Wealth devour,
Made fiercer by the Wind's provoking Power;
While Youths behold the Sight in sportive Game,
Smile at the spreading Smoke and rising Flame;
Nor one officious to oppose the Rage
Shall Water throw its Fury to asswage:
Or seiz'd by Death, may not one Friend appear
To close thy Eyes, or weep behind thy Bier;
Nor on thy Pile be one small Present laid
To 'nrich thy Ashes, or oblige thy Shade.
Reject the faithful Vot'ries of your Train;
May greedy Flames, the cursed Wealth devour,
Made fiercer by the Wind's provoking Power;
While Youths behold the Sight in sportive Game,
Smile at the spreading Smoke and rising Flame;
Nor one officious to oppose the Rage
Shall Water throw its Fury to asswage:
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To close thy Eyes, or weep behind thy Bier;
Nor on thy Pile be one small Present laid
To 'nrich thy Ashes, or oblige thy Shade.
But the kind lovely Maid, whose gen'rous Soul
No Wealth can stain, or sordid Bribes controul;
Although a hundred rolling Years are o're
When Age deforms, and Beauty fires no more:
Yet Crowds shall come to view her Obsequies,
And close the flaming Pile with weeping Eyes.
No Wealth can stain, or sordid Bribes controul;
Although a hundred rolling Years are o're
When Age deforms, and Beauty fires no more:
Yet Crowds shall come to view her Obsequies,
And close the flaming Pile with weeping Eyes.
And some old Man, whose Youth had felt her Charms,
Who had been often happy in her Arms,
Shall with a grateful gen'rous Ardour come,
And hang his annual Garland on her Tomb,
With throbbing Heart, and as he comes away,
With Sighs and longing Eyes reverted say;
Oh! silent may'st thou sleep in pleasing Rest,
And the light Turf lay easie on thy Breast.
Who had been often happy in her Arms,
Shall with a grateful gen'rous Ardour come,
And hang his annual Garland on her Tomb,
With throbbing Heart, and as he comes away,
With Sighs and longing Eyes reverted say;
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And the light Turf lay easie on thy Breast.
'Tis Truth, but Truth, alas, affords no Aid,
For arbitrary Love will be obey'd.
Let Nemesis desire, at her Command,
I'd sell my Seat and old paternal Land;
Nay, let her all the pois'nous Simples brew,
That ever Circe or Medea knew:
Cull all the Drugs around the pontick Shore,
And deadlier Poisons in the Mixture pour,
Let her but with a Smile present the Cup,
And willingly I'll quaff the Potion up.
For arbitrary Love will be obey'd.
Let Nemesis desire, at her Command,
I'd sell my Seat and old paternal Land;
Nay, let her all the pois'nous Simples brew,
That ever Circe or Medea knew:
Cull all the Drugs around the pontick Shore,
And deadlier Poisons in the Mixture pour,
Let her but with a Smile present the Cup,
And willingly I'll quaff the Potion up.
ELEGY V.
Phæbus
, within thy aweful Fane is plac'd
A Priest with holy Robes and Titles grac'd.
Propitious God! thy Lyre and Verses bring,
And with thy Finger strike the Vocal String:
And may your heavenly Song, and charming Lays,
Incline with mine to swell th' intended Praise:
While we with pious Toil before thy Shrine,
Thy Altars heap, and offer Rites Divine:
Do thou accept the Off'ring, and be there,
Confess'd with Laurel foliage round thy Hair:
But with illustrious Pride attend the Show,
And loosly let thy graceful Vestments flow;
Array'd as when old Saturn fled above,
You sang the Victor God, the pow'rful Jove.
A Priest with holy Robes and Titles grac'd.
Propitious God! thy Lyre and Verses bring,
And with thy Finger strike the Vocal String:
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Incline with mine to swell th' intended Praise:
While we with pious Toil before thy Shrine,
Thy Altars heap, and offer Rites Divine:
Do thou accept the Off'ring, and be there,
Confess'd with Laurel foliage round thy Hair:
But with illustrious Pride attend the Show,
And loosly let thy graceful Vestments flow;
Array'd as when old Saturn fled above,
You sang the Victor God, the pow'rful Jove.
With piercing View you see the Years to come,
And tell in present Answers future Doom.
The Augur taught by thee with artful Care,
Knows what the diff'rent Flight of Birds declare.
Thou know'st the more exalted Fates of Kings,
Then when th' Auruspex reaking Entrails brings:
He through thy Aid can in the Charger see
Surprizing Fates, and strange Events to be.
To Sybill you unveil'd the future Days,
Who sung Presages dark in uncouth Lays.
The wife prophetick Dame yet never fail'd,
But if she promis'd Pow'r, the Romans still prevail'd.
O! teach thy Priest long Volumes to revolve,
And sacred, tho' surprizing Doubts resolve.
Unveil the dark mysterious Truth conceal'd,
And be what seems obscure, by thee reveal'd.
And tell in present Answers future Doom.
The Augur taught by thee with artful Care,
Knows what the diff'rent Flight of Birds declare.
Thou know'st the more exalted Fates of Kings,
Then when th' Auruspex reaking Entrails brings:
He through thy Aid can in the Charger see
Surprizing Fates, and strange Events to be.
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Who sung Presages dark in uncouth Lays.
The wife prophetick Dame yet never fail'd,
But if she promis'd Pow'r, the Romans still prevail'd.
O! teach thy Priest long Volumes to revolve,
And sacred, tho' surprizing Doubts resolve.
Unveil the dark mysterious Truth conceal'd,
And be what seems obscure, by thee reveal'd.
The future Fate she of Æneas told,
And did important Truths to come unfold:
After he, on his Back, sustain'd a Weight
Father and Lares, a religious Freight;
Disclos'd a mighty Empire fix'd by Fate,
And all the Glories of the Roman State,
When she saw blazing Iliums Light aspire,
Her Glorys, Fanes, and Gods consum'd with Fire.
She told a glorious Empire yet to come,
E'er Romulus design'd eternal Rome,
Or Walls the Cause of Rhemus' fatal Doom:
For then the lowing Herd on Herbage graz'd,
Where now stupendious Palaces were rais'd;
And where Jove's Temple shoots its rising Tow'rs,
Hovels were rear'd, and Shepherds lowly Bow'rs.
There Pan beneath a Tree his shady Shrine,
Possess'd, with sprinkled Milk and Rites divine:
And Fram'd of Wood, the Goddess of the Field,
In her right Hand a homely Cyckle held:
There on some shady Tree's extended Boughs,
Hung warbling Pipes, the Signs of offer'd Vows.
By straying Shepherds hung Reads with Decrease,
With Wax conjoin'd, and gradually less.
And where Velabria spreads his wat'ry Store,
A little Wherry swam with silent Oar.
O'er this (design'd the Farmer's Wife) the Maid
Was on some solemn Holy-Day convey'd,
And brought back Presents of the Country Cheese,
Or else a sporting Lamb with snowy Fleece.
And did important Truths to come unfold:
After he, on his Back, sustain'd a Weight
Father and Lares, a religious Freight;
Disclos'd a mighty Empire fix'd by Fate,
And all the Glories of the Roman State,
When she saw blazing Iliums Light aspire,
Her Glorys, Fanes, and Gods consum'd with Fire.
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E'er Romulus design'd eternal Rome,
Or Walls the Cause of Rhemus' fatal Doom:
For then the lowing Herd on Herbage graz'd,
Where now stupendious Palaces were rais'd;
And where Jove's Temple shoots its rising Tow'rs,
Hovels were rear'd, and Shepherds lowly Bow'rs.
There Pan beneath a Tree his shady Shrine,
Possess'd, with sprinkled Milk and Rites divine:
And Fram'd of Wood, the Goddess of the Field,
In her right Hand a homely Cyckle held:
There on some shady Tree's extended Boughs,
Hung warbling Pipes, the Signs of offer'd Vows.
By straying Shepherds hung Reads with Decrease,
With Wax conjoin'd, and gradually less.
And where Velabria spreads his wat'ry Store,
A little Wherry swam with silent Oar.
O'er this (design'd the Farmer's Wife) the Maid
Was on some solemn Holy-Day convey'd,
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Or else a sporting Lamb with snowy Fleece.
Brother of winged Love, Æneas hail,
Who with thy Gods directs the flying Sail.
See Jove assigns thee Laurentines Abodes,
And calls to Hospitable Fields thy Gods.
The Trojan then with Wonder fill'd shall say
'Twas not in vain he came so long a Way;
There sacred Thou, by Old Numicus' Floods,
Shalt from a Heroe mingle with the Gods.
See as thy tir'd Fleet inclines to Shore,
Victoria flies, and haughty now no more,
Sits on thy Sails, and stoops to Trojan Power.
I see, I see Rutilian Fires alight,
The horrid Camp now shines before my Sight:
And thee proud Turnus with a Soul elate,
I see thy speedy Death, and dangerous Fate.
Laurentum's Camp I view before my Eyes,
I see Lavinum's Walls attempt the Skies,
And Alba Longa lofty Tow'rs arise.
Thee Ilia next I see, as from afar,
Destin'd to please the mighty Pow'r of War.
I see thee leave the Fires and hallow'd Place,
Now view the private Theft and close Embrace.
Thy purple Fillets flying loose abroad,
And on the Banks the scatter'd Trophies strow'd,
And cumb'rous Weapons of the eager God.
Now while you may, ye Oxen, graze your fill,
And crop the Grass from every rising Hill:
For on these Hills, and on this quiet Green,
E're long a mighty City shall be seen.
Rome, aweful Name, design'd from mighty sway,
Fatal to Nations, destin'd to obey:
Where e'er from Heaven bright Ceres views her Ground,
And spicy Fields, with yellow Harvests crown'd:
Where first the Morning Sun the East surveys,
And where declining to the Western Seas;
He wheels his Chariot swiftly down, and laves
His neighing Horses in the beating Waves.
Prophetick Truths I sing, so safely may,
I eat the Laurel Leaves I first display,
And may my Virgin Honour ne'er decay.
Who with thy Gods directs the flying Sail.
See Jove assigns thee Laurentines Abodes,
And calls to Hospitable Fields thy Gods.
The Trojan then with Wonder fill'd shall say
'Twas not in vain he came so long a Way;
There sacred Thou, by Old Numicus' Floods,
Shalt from a Heroe mingle with the Gods.
See as thy tir'd Fleet inclines to Shore,
Victoria flies, and haughty now no more,
Sits on thy Sails, and stoops to Trojan Power.
I see, I see Rutilian Fires alight,
The horrid Camp now shines before my Sight:
And thee proud Turnus with a Soul elate,
I see thy speedy Death, and dangerous Fate.
Laurentum's Camp I view before my Eyes,
I see Lavinum's Walls attempt the Skies,
And Alba Longa lofty Tow'rs arise.
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Destin'd to please the mighty Pow'r of War.
I see thee leave the Fires and hallow'd Place,
Now view the private Theft and close Embrace.
Thy purple Fillets flying loose abroad,
And on the Banks the scatter'd Trophies strow'd,
And cumb'rous Weapons of the eager God.
Now while you may, ye Oxen, graze your fill,
And crop the Grass from every rising Hill:
For on these Hills, and on this quiet Green,
E're long a mighty City shall be seen.
Rome, aweful Name, design'd from mighty sway,
Fatal to Nations, destin'd to obey:
Where e'er from Heaven bright Ceres views her Ground,
And spicy Fields, with yellow Harvests crown'd:
Where first the Morning Sun the East surveys,
And where declining to the Western Seas;
He wheels his Chariot swiftly down, and laves
His neighing Horses in the beating Waves.
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I eat the Laurel Leaves I first display,
And may my Virgin Honour ne'er decay.
Thus sang the Maid, and call'd thee Phæbus near,
She giddy writh'd her Neck, and wildly toss'd her Hair;
What e'er Amalthea, what Marpessia said,
Herophile, Apollo's fav'rite Maid:
Or what the fam'd Albuna understood,
Who lay conceal'd beside Old Tybur's Flood.
She giddy writh'd her Neck, and wildly toss'd her Hair;
What e'er Amalthea, what Marpessia said,
Herophile, Apollo's fav'rite Maid:
Or what the fam'd Albuna understood,
Who lay conceal'd beside Old Tybur's Flood.
These sang of Comets blazing in the Air,
The dire Portents of an impending War.
And how the rough Artillery of the Sky,
Huge ponderous Stones came rattling from on high.
In Clouds they heard the Arrow's whizzing Noise,
And the loud sounding Trumpet's brazen Voice.
In sacred Groves strange Noise the Ear invades,
And Fates were told from Woods and gloomy Shades.
The Sun deficient view the dusky Day,
And his pale Steed reflect a dying Ray.
Warm Tears down the Gods Marble Statues roll'd,
And Vocal Oxen coming Fates foretold.
The dire Portents of an impending War.
And how the rough Artillery of the Sky,
Huge ponderous Stones came rattling from on high.
In Clouds they heard the Arrow's whizzing Noise,
And the loud sounding Trumpet's brazen Voice.
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And Fates were told from Woods and gloomy Shades.
The Sun deficient view the dusky Day,
And his pale Steed reflect a dying Ray.
Warm Tears down the Gods Marble Statues roll'd,
And Vocal Oxen coming Fates foretold.
With these Portents the former Times were scar'd,
But Phæbus kindly better Fates award:
These Prodegies avert and turn away,
Imers'd beneath the Surges of the Sea.
May crackling Laurel in the Flame declare,
The Omen of a sacred happy Year.
The Laurel gives the Sign, rejoice thou Swain,
Ceres will swell the Field with kindly Grain;
Now stain'd with Must, the Clown shall Clusters tread,
And cheerfully the pleasing Labour speed.
The Shepherd then inspir'd with generous Wine,
Shall keep Palilian Feasts and Rites Divine,
Then, O ye Wolves, desist to tear the Kine.
He warm'd with Wine, shall light up Straw in Heaps,
And thrice surround the Fire with sporting Leaps.
The Wife shall then her num'rous Off-spring see,
And Infants play around their Father's Knee:
The Grandsire's Care shall be to tend the Child,
And the old Woman lisp out Soothings mild.
Then shall the sacred rural Rites be paid
By Country Youth, with careless Limbs display'd
On rising Grass, beneath some spreading Shade;
Or else with their united Garments spread,
They'll form a cooling Umbrage over Head,
Deck'd with soft Flow'rs, in Bandage hanging down,
With glowing Flow'rs, the brimming Goblets crown.
Soft Grass-turfs on the verdant Altars lay,
And on the Seats the easy Turf display.
Here warm'd with Wine, and with o'er burden'd Head,
The Youth shall insolently scoff the Maid,
Yet sober, wish th' opprobrious Words unsaid.
When he reflects, himself he'll often blame,
And swear his Words and Thoughts were not the same.
O Phæbus, neither suffer Shafts nor Bow,
Let Love unarm'd around the Meadows go.
Shooting was first an advantagious Art,
'Till Cupid stretch'd the Bow, and us'd the Dart.
Alas, the Time he ever knew the Skill,
Knowledge, productive of a world of Ill,
And most to me who by his Arrow's slain,
Indulge my Illness, while I love the Pain.
I scarcely now of Nemesis can sing,
Without whose Name I can no Measure bring.
But you, my Dear, your sacred Poet spare,
For Poets are the Gods peculiar Care,
Then I of Messalinus, great in War,
Shall sing, and Nations shown before his Car;
And pleas'd shall with the glad Spectators stand,
Waving the Laurel Branches in my Hand:
My self a Soldier too with Laurel crown'd,
Shall shout glad Io' triumph all around;
Then my Messala, as the Show goes on,
The glorious Father of so great a Son,
Shall view the Sight with a rejoicing Eye,
And praise the Victor as he passes by.
But Phæbus kindly better Fates award:
These Prodegies avert and turn away,
Imers'd beneath the Surges of the Sea.
May crackling Laurel in the Flame declare,
The Omen of a sacred happy Year.
The Laurel gives the Sign, rejoice thou Swain,
Ceres will swell the Field with kindly Grain;
Now stain'd with Must, the Clown shall Clusters tread,
And cheerfully the pleasing Labour speed.
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Shall keep Palilian Feasts and Rites Divine,
Then, O ye Wolves, desist to tear the Kine.
He warm'd with Wine, shall light up Straw in Heaps,
And thrice surround the Fire with sporting Leaps.
The Wife shall then her num'rous Off-spring see,
And Infants play around their Father's Knee:
The Grandsire's Care shall be to tend the Child,
And the old Woman lisp out Soothings mild.
Then shall the sacred rural Rites be paid
By Country Youth, with careless Limbs display'd
On rising Grass, beneath some spreading Shade;
Or else with their united Garments spread,
They'll form a cooling Umbrage over Head,
Deck'd with soft Flow'rs, in Bandage hanging down,
With glowing Flow'rs, the brimming Goblets crown.
Soft Grass-turfs on the verdant Altars lay,
And on the Seats the easy Turf display.
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The Youth shall insolently scoff the Maid,
Yet sober, wish th' opprobrious Words unsaid.
When he reflects, himself he'll often blame,
And swear his Words and Thoughts were not the same.
O Phæbus, neither suffer Shafts nor Bow,
Let Love unarm'd around the Meadows go.
Shooting was first an advantagious Art,
'Till Cupid stretch'd the Bow, and us'd the Dart.
Alas, the Time he ever knew the Skill,
Knowledge, productive of a world of Ill,
And most to me who by his Arrow's slain,
Indulge my Illness, while I love the Pain.
I scarcely now of Nemesis can sing,
Without whose Name I can no Measure bring.
But you, my Dear, your sacred Poet spare,
For Poets are the Gods peculiar Care,
Then I of Messalinus, great in War,
Shall sing, and Nations shown before his Car;
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Waving the Laurel Branches in my Hand:
My self a Soldier too with Laurel crown'd,
Shall shout glad Io' triumph all around;
Then my Messala, as the Show goes on,
The glorious Father of so great a Son,
Shall view the Sight with a rejoicing Eye,
And praise the Victor as he passes by.
O! Phœbus, hear the Pray'rs I now prefer,
So may you ever wave your flowing Hair;
So ever may your Sister's spotless Fame
Preserve the Lustre of a Virgin Name.
So may you ever wave your flowing Hair;
So ever may your Sister's spotless Fame
Preserve the Lustre of a Virgin Name.
ELEGY VI.
Macer
intends the Camp, and seeks the Foe,
What then, alas, will softer Cupid do.
Shall he attend to join the Warrior Trade,
And welm the Helmet o'er his little Head?
Shall steely Jav'lins gall his tender Hands,
And shall he follow thee o'er Seas and Lands?
No, rather, O my Boy, thy Torch apply,
And Fire the Wretch who dares thy Service fly;
Who dares with haughty Insolence disdain
Thy pleasing Leisure, and thy easie Reign:
Bring back the bold Deserter from afar,
Beneath thy Banners, and thy softer War.
If Soldiers you indulge, then I'll be one,
Tho' low in Place, inglorious and unknown.
Come on, to Wars, fair Venus now adieu,
And all ye beauteous Maids, farewel to you:
I've Strength and Vigour, am estrang'd to fear,
And sounding Trumpets most delight my Ear.
How boasting are my Words! and how elate!
Yet let my Mistress but confine the Gate,
My Thoughts all sink at the opposing Door,
And this affected Courage is no more.
How oft have my Resentments made me swear
No more to seek the Threshold of the Fair:
Yet spite of all I swear, of all I say,
My treach'rous Feet again explore the Way.
O! Love, I wish thy Arrows broken now,
Extinct thy Torches, and unstrung thy Bow:
You Fire me, you occasion my Despair,
Provok'd by you, I rave, and impious swear;
Mad in my Rage, impatient of my Wrong,
You force those Imprecations from my Tongue.
What then, alas, will softer Cupid do.
Shall he attend to join the Warrior Trade,
And welm the Helmet o'er his little Head?
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And shall he follow thee o'er Seas and Lands?
No, rather, O my Boy, thy Torch apply,
And Fire the Wretch who dares thy Service fly;
Who dares with haughty Insolence disdain
Thy pleasing Leisure, and thy easie Reign:
Bring back the bold Deserter from afar,
Beneath thy Banners, and thy softer War.
If Soldiers you indulge, then I'll be one,
Tho' low in Place, inglorious and unknown.
Come on, to Wars, fair Venus now adieu,
And all ye beauteous Maids, farewel to you:
I've Strength and Vigour, am estrang'd to fear,
And sounding Trumpets most delight my Ear.
How boasting are my Words! and how elate!
Yet let my Mistress but confine the Gate,
My Thoughts all sink at the opposing Door,
And this affected Courage is no more.
How oft have my Resentments made me swear
No more to seek the Threshold of the Fair:
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My treach'rous Feet again explore the Way.
O! Love, I wish thy Arrows broken now,
Extinct thy Torches, and unstrung thy Bow:
You Fire me, you occasion my Despair,
Provok'd by you, I rave, and impious swear;
Mad in my Rage, impatient of my Wrong,
You force those Imprecations from my Tongue.
Death long ago had giv'n my Grief allay,
But flatt'ring Hope still urges on Delay,
And says to Morrow'll bring a better Day.
Hope chears the Peasant, when he turns the Soil,
And bids him hope a Harvest from his Toil.
Hope bids the toilsome Fowler Springes lay,
And without fail expect the wish'd-for Prey.
The patient Angler stretching out his Reed,
Silent and watchful hopes the Finny Breed.
The Slave in hopes of Liberty remains,
His Songs keep Measure with his ratt'ling Chains.
Hope flatters me that Nemesis is mine,
Yet still the Maid does all my Suit decline:
Ah! cease, too cruel Maid, this high Disdain,
Nor let the Goddess give her Word in vain.
Spare, cruel Fair-one, I conjure you, spare,
If e'er thy Sister's Memory was dear;
By her cold Ashes Pride to Pity turn,
So may the Earth lay light upon her Urn.
I reverence her as sacred to her Tomb,
Loaded with Gifts and flow'ry Wreaths I'll come;
Upon her Grave the blooming Chaplets rear,
And every Flow'r make Dewy with a Tear.
Distracted to her Tomb I'll fly alone,
There sit a pensive Suppliant near the Stone,
And tell the silent Manes all my Moan.
She will not let her Client thus complain,
Nor for thy sake express his Grief in vain:
That you would fav'ring to your Votary be,
Was her Request, and that I urge to thee.
Beware lest angry the neglected Shade,
With frightful Dreams thy Midnight Hours invade;
Lest thy pale Sister, to thy troubled Sight,
Appear before thy Bed in silent Night;
In that same direful Form, as when of late,
She from the Window fell by hapless Fate;
There found her Death, and all distain'd with Blood,
Went to the lower Realms and Stygian Flood.
I wou'd not strive to wake your buried Cares,
Had I the Pow'r, I then had say'd your Tears:
Nor is it fit that Sorrow's sad Disguise,
And falling Tears should swell those speaking Eyes.
I cease to urge thy Grief, nor further go,
Thou'rt kind, my Dear, but Phryne is my Foe;
That mercenary Jade denies Access
To me, yet others secret Messages.
She in her Bosom bears with private Care,
And carries Answers from my heedless Fair;
Oft when before th' obdurate Gate I walk,
And hear the Musick of my fair One's Talk:
I rap, and strait this shameless Jade will come,
And bear me down, her Mistress is from Home.
Oft times when we appoint the happy Night,
And I impatient wait the dear Delight.
She that She's Sick will oftentimes perswade,
Or scare with trifling Fears my tim'rous Maid:
Then how I die with anxious Fancy tost,
I strait imagine that the Fair is lost;
Or think who now enjoys the treach'rous Maid,
And Image how the fatal Theft is paid.
Then how I curse thee thou procuring Whore,
And wish the Furies had thee in their Pow'r:
In Mis'ry may thy wretched Life be spent,
And may the Gods, to what I wish, assent.
But flatt'ring Hope still urges on Delay,
And says to Morrow'll bring a better Day.
Hope chears the Peasant, when he turns the Soil,
And bids him hope a Harvest from his Toil.
Hope bids the toilsome Fowler Springes lay,
And without fail expect the wish'd-for Prey.
The patient Angler stretching out his Reed,
Silent and watchful hopes the Finny Breed.
The Slave in hopes of Liberty remains,
His Songs keep Measure with his ratt'ling Chains.
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Yet still the Maid does all my Suit decline:
Ah! cease, too cruel Maid, this high Disdain,
Nor let the Goddess give her Word in vain.
Spare, cruel Fair-one, I conjure you, spare,
If e'er thy Sister's Memory was dear;
By her cold Ashes Pride to Pity turn,
So may the Earth lay light upon her Urn.
I reverence her as sacred to her Tomb,
Loaded with Gifts and flow'ry Wreaths I'll come;
Upon her Grave the blooming Chaplets rear,
And every Flow'r make Dewy with a Tear.
Distracted to her Tomb I'll fly alone,
There sit a pensive Suppliant near the Stone,
And tell the silent Manes all my Moan.
She will not let her Client thus complain,
Nor for thy sake express his Grief in vain:
That you would fav'ring to your Votary be,
Was her Request, and that I urge to thee.
149
With frightful Dreams thy Midnight Hours invade;
Lest thy pale Sister, to thy troubled Sight,
Appear before thy Bed in silent Night;
In that same direful Form, as when of late,
She from the Window fell by hapless Fate;
There found her Death, and all distain'd with Blood,
Went to the lower Realms and Stygian Flood.
I wou'd not strive to wake your buried Cares,
Had I the Pow'r, I then had say'd your Tears:
Nor is it fit that Sorrow's sad Disguise,
And falling Tears should swell those speaking Eyes.
I cease to urge thy Grief, nor further go,
Thou'rt kind, my Dear, but Phryne is my Foe;
That mercenary Jade denies Access
To me, yet others secret Messages.
She in her Bosom bears with private Care,
And carries Answers from my heedless Fair;
Oft when before th' obdurate Gate I walk,
And hear the Musick of my fair One's Talk:
150
And bear me down, her Mistress is from Home.
Oft times when we appoint the happy Night,
And I impatient wait the dear Delight.
She that She's Sick will oftentimes perswade,
Or scare with trifling Fears my tim'rous Maid:
Then how I die with anxious Fancy tost,
I strait imagine that the Fair is lost;
Or think who now enjoys the treach'rous Maid,
And Image how the fatal Theft is paid.
Then how I curse thee thou procuring Whore,
And wish the Furies had thee in their Pow'r:
In Mis'ry may thy wretched Life be spent,
And may the Gods, to what I wish, assent.
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