 | Translations and Poems Written on Several Subjects |  |
Written in Mr. Waller's Poems,
given to Mr. T--- G--- Anno 1722.
What Thanks to Thyrsis' friendly Care I owe
My grateful Heart has long desir'd to show;
But when thy oft try'd Friendship I explore,
I find the mighty Sum exceed my Power;
In Wonder lost your Virtues I survey,
And own the Debt, unable to repay.
My grateful Heart has long desir'd to show;
But when thy oft try'd Friendship I explore,
I find the mighty Sum exceed my Power;
In Wonder lost your Virtues I survey,
And own the Debt, unable to repay.
Eager to see the Friend I lov'd so well,
I bid with Joy my Native Shores farewell;
Thro' every Obstacle I urg'd my Way,
And dar'd the Dangers of the faithless Sea;
Who e'er had sought my Passage to restrain,
Since pow'rful Myra fail'd, had sought in vain:
In vain the lovely Maid implor'd my Stay,
While thy superior Friendship wing'd my Way:
Thro' all I broke impatient to thy Arms,
And Thyrsis triumph'd over Beauty's Charms.
I bid with Joy my Native Shores farewell;
Thro' every Obstacle I urg'd my Way,
And dar'd the Dangers of the faithless Sea;
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Since pow'rful Myra fail'd, had sought in vain:
In vain the lovely Maid implor'd my Stay,
While thy superior Friendship wing'd my Way:
Thro' all I broke impatient to thy Arms,
And Thyrsis triumph'd over Beauty's Charms.
At length my Wish obtain'd, my Friend possest,
I bid my Soul indulge her new-sound Rest:
A calm serene did all my Bosom fill,
Too sure a Presage of impending Ill!
For now my visionary Hopes are crost,
And where I hop'd to find thee, — thou art lost —
With thee each Scheme of future Comfort flies,
And all around me dreadful Visions rise!
At thy Departure all my Pleasures end,
And all I lose, whene'er I lose my Friend:
What Images of Grief appear in View!
And fancy'd Tortures thus precede the true:
Increase the Measure of my heighten'd Grief,
Excite new Sorrows, and exclude Relief.
I bid my Soul indulge her new-sound Rest:
A calm serene did all my Bosom fill,
Too sure a Presage of impending Ill!
For now my visionary Hopes are crost,
And where I hop'd to find thee, — thou art lost —
With thee each Scheme of future Comfort flies,
And all around me dreadful Visions rise!
At thy Departure all my Pleasures end,
And all I lose, whene'er I lose my Friend:
What Images of Grief appear in View!
And fancy'd Tortures thus precede the true:
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Excite new Sorrows, and exclude Relief.
Where'er I turn my melancholy Eyes,
Some sad Ideas of my Loss arise,
Your Voice I seem in every Sound to hear,
But find alas your Shade is only there:
Without his Partner is Octavio seen,
And pensive now he treads the flow'ry Green.
Some sad Ideas of my Loss arise,
Your Voice I seem in every Sound to hear,
But find alas your Shade is only there:
Without his Partner is Octavio seen,
And pensive now he treads the flow'ry Green.
These Scenes of Sorrow shortly shall be true;
And these sad Prospects am I doom'd to view!
'Tis but a little Moment e'er you go,
The fatal Æra of my future Woe.
And these sad Prospects am I doom'd to view!
'Tis but a little Moment e'er you go,
The fatal Æra of my future Woe.
Receive, dear Thyrsis, e'er we sadly part,
This trifling Gift but from a grateful Heart;
Let your lov'd Bard your kind Acceptance claim,
With thee he mourns an ill requited Flame;
While cruel Sacharissa fires his Lays,
But ill thy Cælia all thy Vows repays;
With secret Joy, ill-natur'd sees thee pine,
And frowns ungrateful on a Love like thine,
O then be warn'd, the fair Deceiver fly
Nor tempt the pleasing Mischiefs of her Eye.
For thee remains in Store a milder Fate,
The haughty Maid shall signal Vengeance wait:
Too late shall she mistaken Conduct see,
And mourn too late her Cruelty to thee;
While thee a Train of smiling Years attend,
And Peace and Joy shall crown my happy Friend.
This trifling Gift but from a grateful Heart;
Let your lov'd Bard your kind Acceptance claim,
With thee he mourns an ill requited Flame;
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But ill thy Cælia all thy Vows repays;
With secret Joy, ill-natur'd sees thee pine,
And frowns ungrateful on a Love like thine,
O then be warn'd, the fair Deceiver fly
Nor tempt the pleasing Mischiefs of her Eye.
For thee remains in Store a milder Fate,
The haughty Maid shall signal Vengeance wait:
Too late shall she mistaken Conduct see,
And mourn too late her Cruelty to thee;
While thee a Train of smiling Years attend,
And Peace and Joy shall crown my happy Friend.
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