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Mr. Cooke's Original Poems

with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language

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ODE the Thirteenth. SYLVIA.
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118

ODE the Thirteenth. SYLVIA.

I

I Sylvia priz'd as Lillys fair,
All fragrant as the morning Air,
And sweeter than the Lark her Voice.
With Ease she could my Cares beguile;
A Word, a tender Look, or Smile,
Would make the gloomy Soul rejoice.

II

When on her Breasts, expanded white,
Heaving luxuriant with Delight,
I fondly lay'd my lovesick Head,
The Roses shed their Sweets around,
And Vi'lets breathing from the Ground
Compos'd the aromatic Bed.

119

III

Beneath the grateful Shade I ly,
Hid almost from the Sun's great Eye;
Protect me all ye Pow'rs above!
O! keep me, ever fix me, here,
Where Nothing can create a Fear,
Where all is Softness, all is Love!

IV

Thus in the Ecstacy of Bliss,
Just from the heart-dissolving Kiss,
I pray'd, alas! a heedless Swain;
For to that joyous fatal Hour,
(Was Poyson in so sweet a Flow'r?)
Succeeded Days on Days of Pain.

V

The Sailor so, with gladsome Eye,
Th'unruffel'd Main, and azure Sky,
Views, while the Winds propitious blow:
Forward he steers, with Look serene,
Till, bulging on a Rock unseen,
Appears a sudden Face of Woe.

120

VI

Henceforth, unwary Youth, beware,
Nor make such fleeting Joys your Care;
Let Virtue ever be your Guard.
Pleasures adieu, whose Fruits are Pain,
For Sages have not taught in vain,
That Virtue is her own Reward.