The Land of the Muses a poem, In the Manner of Spenser. With Poems on several Occasions. By Hugh Downman |
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An ODE.
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 | The Land of the Muses |  |
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An ODE.
[No; ye beckon me in vain]
No; ye beckon me in vain,
Your allurements I disdain,
Powers of riot! God of wine,
Though thy glist'ning forehead shine
Through the garland which around
Is so negligently bound;
Though Joy flashes from thy eye;
Though the purple goblet high
Foams with wine; on thy right hand
Though the soul of Pleasure stand,
And Wit, and unlac'd Gaiety,
Which, with Humour ever free,
Jest delighted; while beside
Laughter sits, and ope'ing wide
His mouth, lets forth a pealing din,
And shakes his jolly double chin:
God of wine, thou call'st in vain,
Thy allurements I disdain.
Your allurements I disdain,
Powers of riot! God of wine,
Though thy glist'ning forehead shine
Through the garland which around
Is so negligently bound;
Though Joy flashes from thy eye;
Though the purple goblet high
Foams with wine; on thy right hand
Though the soul of Pleasure stand,
And Wit, and unlac'd Gaiety,
Which, with Humour ever free,
Jest delighted; while beside
Laughter sits, and ope'ing wide
His mouth, lets forth a pealing din,
And shakes his jolly double chin:
God of wine, thou call'st in vain,
Thy allurements I disdain.
Lo, she comes, the Cyprian Queen!
Mark her soul-inflaming mien;
Thinly clad, the Luscious Fair
In Modesty's dissembled air;
Hear the faintly-broken sighs;
See her panting bosom rise;
Two twin orbs of snowy white
Gently swelling to the sight;
Languid eyes, extinct their fire,
Well they speak intense desire.
Mark her soul-inflaming mien;
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In Modesty's dissembled air;
Hear the faintly-broken sighs;
See her panting bosom rise;
Two twin orbs of snowy white
Gently swelling to the sight;
Languid eyes, extinct their fire,
Well they speak intense desire.
Does not maddening Fancy rove
Through every vein provoking love?
Snatch, O snatch, me to thy arms;
Feast on willing Beauty's charms,
Luxurious feast without controul,
And bathe in rapture all thy soul.
Through every vein provoking love?
Snatch, O snatch, me to thy arms;
Feast on willing Beauty's charms,
Luxurious feast without controul,
And bathe in rapture all thy soul.
Cyprian Venus, hence away,
Scorn attends thy longer stay;
I detest the bought embrace;
Well I know thy practis'd face:
Hence to unsuspicious Youth,
Palm on him pretence for truth.
By Experience rightly taught,
Mine be Reason's sober thought;
Temperance, and her frugal hoard,
Slender fare, and homely board;
Mine be calm, domestick life,
The nuptial bed, the tender wife;
The smiling infant on my knee,
Chirping its little tale with glee.
So shall Health attend me still,
So shall Pleasure drink her fill
From the purest source of joy;
So shall Love without alloy,
Frolick o'er the hallow'd ground,
And wave his genial wing around.
Scorn attends thy longer stay;
I detest the bought embrace;
Well I know thy practis'd face:
Hence to unsuspicious Youth,
Palm on him pretence for truth.
By Experience rightly taught,
Mine be Reason's sober thought;
Temperance, and her frugal hoard,
Slender fare, and homely board;
Mine be calm, domestick life,
The nuptial bed, the tender wife;
The smiling infant on my knee,
Chirping its little tale with glee.
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So shall Pleasure drink her fill
From the purest source of joy;
So shall Love without alloy,
Frolick o'er the hallow'd ground,
And wave his genial wing around.
Cyprian Venus, to my eyes,
When these home-felt transports rise,
Bacchus' riot-breeding train,
And thy embraces I disdain.
When these home-felt transports rise,
Bacchus' riot-breeding train,
And thy embraces I disdain.
| The Land of the Muses | |