The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus with the Elegies of Tyrtaeus, Translated from the Greek into English Verse. To which are Added, Dissertations and Notes. By the Rev. Richard Polwhele |
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| XXIII. | IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-THIRD. The DESPAIRING LOVER. |
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 | The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus |  |
174
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-THIRD. The DESPAIRING LOVER.
An amorous Shepherd lov'd a cruel Maid;And breath'd vain Wishes all with Scorn repaid.
Her beauteous Figure but bely'd her Mind—
A Form too lovely, with a Soul unkind!
She knew not Cupid, or his bitter Dart;
She knew not Cupid's Power, to tame the Heart.
No Blush of Love in soft Suffusion bloom'd;
Nor Pity's dewy Light her Eyes illum'd.
His raging Wound she ne'er essay'd to calm;
Nor pour'd, in Kisses or in Sighs, a Balm!
But savage as the wildest Beast that prowls,
That on the Forest-Hunters grimly scowls,
No Parley could her Fury-spirit brook;
Lour'd her dark Eyes, and Death was in her Look!
Oft from her Face the roseate Color flew,
And her whole Soul in Anger rush'd to View!
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He sigh'd to snatch her frowning to his Arms!
At length, bewilder'd in the Gloom of Fate,
He sought with trembling Steps the Virgin's Gate;
Kiss'd the bare Threshold, hung his throbbing Head,
And his Tears gushing in a Torrent, said:
‘Ah, cruel Fair! in some wild Forest born!
‘Thy Hatred—Love, and all thy Pleasure—Scorn!
‘Thy Nurse—the bloody Lioness alone;
‘Thy cold, cold Heart—impenetrable Stone!
‘Take—take this Cord—'tis all I now can give—
‘I go (nor longer will thy Torment live)
‘To where the Wretched find Relief I go—
‘Where Lovers drink Oblivion of their Woe!
‘Yet what—this scorching Fever—what can tame?
‘Alas! all Lethe could not quench the Flame!
‘Adieu, ye Gates, to meet these Eyes no more;
‘Farewell! I see what Time reserves in Store!
‘Fair is the Rose, yet soon its Beauty flies!
‘Soon the sweet Vi'let, soon the Lily dies!
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‘Thus passes Youth! thus fades its vernal Glow!
‘The Time will come, when ev'n thy Heart shall prove
‘While stream thy bitter Tears, the Pangs of Love!
‘Yet grant this Prayer! alas, I ask no more,
‘When thou shalt see me pendent at thy Door,
‘Ah, pass not—pass not by—but kindly shed
‘A Tear of Pity to embalm the Dead!
‘And loose the Cord; and o'er me lightly throw
‘Your shading Robe; and then one Kiss bestow;
‘At least refuse not such a Boon in Death—
‘Fear not—no Kisses can restore my Breath!
‘Ah! fear not—I shall never more arise!
‘Ev'n tho' thou kiss with soft relenting Sighs!
‘Last, duly dug, my Sepulchre provide,
‘My Love and me its hollow Cell shall hide!
‘And thrice “Here rests my Friend”—departing say;
‘Or rather cry “Here lies my true Love's Clay.”
‘Then let this simple Epitaph be mine,
‘(My trembling Hand now traces the faint Line)
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“And pitying say, he lov'd a ruthless Maid!”
This said, and in despairing Frenzy bold,
High by the Wall a pond'rous Stone he roll'd;
Then, climbing, fix'd the Cord above, and tied
The fatal Noose, and spurn'd the Stone aside—
Quivering in Death! The Fair-one, when she saw
Her pendent Lover, shew'd no Signs of Awe,
Nor shed one Tear; but scornful Glances cast,
And her light Robe polluted, as she past!
Then ran to view the Wrestlers, in the Grove,
Thence visiting the Bath devote to Love!
There Cupid's Image, on a marble Base,
Stood frowning o'er the consecrated Place:
And, instant, as he saw the Fair-one lave,
He fell, and crush'd her, in the Fountain-wave!
Life's purple Current spouted at the Blow,
And these last Words came faultering from below:
‘Lovers adieu! Behold the Scorner dies!
‘Love those that love! For Heaven's Decrees are wise!’
| The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus | |