The Grecian Story Being an Historical Poem, in Five Books. To which is Annex'd The Grove: Consisting of Divers Shorter Poems upon several Subjects. By J. H. [i.e. John Harington] |
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 | The Grecian Story |  |
We now return to her that seemed then
Like Mateless Dove, Clermanthe's Self agen:
Who laid o'th' Bed in Cloaths, and long conceiv'd
Orsamnes stay, of him sleep both bereav'd;
With whom she was (Night-wanderer besides)
Resolv'd to wake, She nimbly rouz'd, then Glides
To th' Window strait: Clear Moon beheld did there
Like sober Handmaid shine, Trees calmest were;
Shew'd Solemn Brows; tall guard resembled round;
But nought for Lovely Shape adorns that ground
Like to her Lord: when, gentler voice; My Dear,
O why so long! She said, Displeased here,
Orsamnes fail'd with Moon, tho well contented,
Torch-bearer thought o'th' Sky; more harm prevented,
Less Wandring too; She sadly back retir'd;
And falling on her Couch, straitways respir'd
Complaining Sigh; Then Pearled Tear did move,
Steal softly down; th' Arms lastly folded prove,
Bemoan'd her Heart. She mus'd with thoughtful Brow,
First, Time could grant for Journeys length, allow;
Thirsander (next) till drest; last, for Return;
Then, counting th' Hours (as thought) began to mourn,
Her several Scores cast nimbly up, as tho
Too much the Time for th' Labour, Task did show.
Like Mateless Dove, Clermanthe's Self agen:
Who laid o'th' Bed in Cloaths, and long conceiv'd
Orsamnes stay, of him sleep both bereav'd;
With whom she was (Night-wanderer besides)
Resolv'd to wake, She nimbly rouz'd, then Glides
To th' Window strait: Clear Moon beheld did there
Like sober Handmaid shine, Trees calmest were;
Shew'd Solemn Brows; tall guard resembled round;
But nought for Lovely Shape adorns that ground
Like to her Lord: when, gentler voice; My Dear,
O why so long! She said, Displeased here,
Orsamnes fail'd with Moon, tho well contented,
Torch-bearer thought o'th' Sky; more harm prevented,
Less Wandring too; She sadly back retir'd;
And falling on her Couch, straitways respir'd
Complaining Sigh; Then Pearled Tear did move,
Steal softly down; th' Arms lastly folded prove,
Bemoan'd her Heart. She mus'd with thoughtful Brow,
First, Time could grant for Journeys length, allow;
Thirsander (next) till drest; last, for Return;
Then, counting th' Hours (as thought) began to mourn,
Her several Scores cast nimbly up, as tho
Too much the Time for th' Labour, Task did show.
| The Grecian Story | |