The Second Part of Original Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Force of Love, the Anguish of Despair,
The Wretch forsaken, and the faithless Fair,
In mournful Strains I sing.—All you that hear
My Tragic Tale, in Pity drop a Tear,
And learn, from Mischiefs in this Story shown,
By others Evils to prevent your own.

Where Tame and Isis joyn, two Houses stood,
Of humble Height; built from a neighbouring Wood:
Two once they were: but Friendship's sacred sway
Had pluck'd the intervening Walls away,
And made of both but One; with Plenty blest,
Two widow'd Yeomen joyntly this possess'd.
Friends They had always been, but after Fate
Had each depriv'd of his beloved Mate
Their Families they joyn'd, and all their Store
Together mix'd, ne'er to be parted more.

No Chronicle, before that time, could shew
So strict a Friendship as between these Two:
For seldom did they ever part by Day,
And in one Bed at Night together lay.
Their Age, their Humour, their Desires the same,
And all Things common, but each Other's Name;
Nay, e'en their Names (as shall anon be shown)
They had at Heart to joyn, and make but one.

Their lowing Herds no single Master know,
For in one Pail their Streams together flow;
Their Harvest, with united Labour sown,
United Care gets in, and neither thinks his own.
Or This, or That, as Chance or Fancy guides,
To vend their rural Stores, at Market, rides:
The Money in one common Chest was laid,
Nor any Difference its Division made.
Wide as the Eye could reach, the Land around
Was all their own; and Plenty bless'd the Ground:
An ample Fortune!—yet their frugal Board
Did Food, for Health, not Luxury, afford.
No French Ragoût, or Fricassy was there,
But plenteous Store of wholsome country Fare,
The Ox, the Sheep, the Partridge, and the Hare:
No racking Wines from distant Regions brought,
But Ale from their own Malt supply'd the Draught;
Mirth crown'd their Cups: contented with their own
Full happily They liv'd, to pining Care unknown.

Fortune on all their Undertakings smil'd,
And Nature had bestow'd on each an only Child,
Of Years the same; for Summer's cheerful Green,
And Winter Snows, each Sixteen times had seen:
The Comfort of their aged Parent's Days:
Different in Sex, alike deserving praise.
He Valentino, She Cleanthe nam'd;
Their Worth by Fame was far and near proclaim'd;
For Beauty She, for Valour He renown'd,
Without Compeer the Country all around.
None more expert than He to chace the Deer,
Or dart the Otter with the bearded Spear;
None could than She more numerous Conquests boast,
For none beheld Her but his Heart was lost.
Both dear alike to either Parent were,
Alike their Comfort, and alike their Care,
And each esteem'd the Other's Child his Heir:
For from their Birth the ancient Folks design'd
Their Friendship, Wealth, and Name, should in these two be joyn'd.

A mutual Flame the youthful Pair inspir'd,
And Fate seem'd pleas'd with what They all desir'd:
He had no Sense but of Cleanthe's Charms,
And all the Bliss she hop'd was center'd in his Arms.

Whilst o'er the Plains He drove the flying Prey,
She'd sigh,—Why stays my Love so long away!
Come, come, my Life! to thy Cleanthe come;
Thy own Cleanthe calls,—ah! whither dost thou roam?
Then forth she'd range, impatient, all around
List'ning, if from the Musick of the Hound
She his Approach might learn, with open Arms
To welcome his Return, and bless him with her Charms:
In gentle Murmurs chide his tedious Stay,
And with a Kiss compleat the Pleasures of the Day.

Sometimes, reclin'd on his beloved Breast,
The mossy Bank they both together press'd,
Their Arms, each Other circling; Pleasures crown'd
Their blissful Brows, and Cupids hover'd round.

Diffusing blooming Joys, each Hour prov'd
A smiling Sign how happily they lov'd.

Sometimes, of Roses she would Chaplets twine,
In beauteous Order mixt with Jessamine,
And each delightsome Flow'r, whose Fragrancy
Could gratifie the Smell, or Colour please the Eye,
To grace her Lover's Brows:—Cleanthe's Name
Carv'd on each Tree express'd his equal Flame;
His Words, his Looks, and all his Actions prove
Ten thousand ways the Greatness of his Love.

Sometimes in Ecstasies He clasp'd the Maid,
Transported with her Smiles:—You Gods! he said,
My happy Fate I praise! Is there than this,
Is there, You Pow'rs Supreme! a greater Bliss?
Thus, thus to hold Cleanthe in my Arms,
To taste her Lips, to banquet on her Charms,
Is Heav'n, or something more: while thus I hold
My Charmer, while my Treasure I enfold

Within these eager Arms, while She my Vows
With Pleasure hears, my Ecstasies allows,
Angels to me are wretched, Kings are poor:
Be still Cleanthe mine, You Gods! I ask no more!
Thus would He bless his Fate:—with smiling Grace
The Fair mean-while, enraptur'd, on his Face
Sighing would gaze, and meet his close Embrace.

With Joy and Pleasure fill'd, each happy Day
Slides on, and wing'd with Love the Moments haste away.
Each grassy Hill, and every gloomy Shade,
Was Witness of those mutual Vows They made;
Such tender Vows of everlasting Love,
That when the Angels in the Rolls above
Saw them recorded down, with Wonder they confess'd,
More than themselves this Mortal Pair was blest.

But Happiness is never at a Stay,
It makes it Wings, and quickly flies away;

Unconstant as the Winds, now here, now there,
Its Course it takes, nor tarries any where.
While with delusive Hopes of smiling Joy
Vain Mortals hug themselves, their Thoughts employ
On Bliss alone, from their deceiv'd Embrace
Away the Phantom flies, and in its Place
Leaves sad Remorse, restless consuming Care,
Heart-breaking Anguish, and Hell-born Despair.

Oh! Valentino! had o'er-ruling Fate
Ordain'd thy Joys as durable as great
NoBliss could equal thine:—But thou must know,
(As thou hast done of Joy) the last extreams of Woe.

While thus each Hour the youthful Couple prove
Whatever Pleasures wait successful Love,
Or spring from Innocence; one cursed Day,
When all their Guardian-Angels were away,
The fatal Cause of all their future Pain
By chance came riding o'er the peaceful Plain,

As fair Cleanthe tripping o'er the Grass,
Was hasting to a Grove where Valentino was.
The charming Maid He saw, and seeing lov'd;
For who such Beauty could behold unmov'd!
She too admir'd the Stranger's manly Grace,
And thought she ne'er had seen a more engaging Face.

How great the Consequence of trivial Things!
From what small Causes mighty Mischief springs!
Accursed Interview! from hence arose
Cleanthe's faithless Change, and Valentino's Woes.

Forbear, O Muse! what Means this Stranger found
To make Cleanthe conscious of that Wound
Her Eyes had giv'n his Heart, nor need'st Thou tell
Each various Circumstance from hence befel;
But haste to shew from whence this Stranger came,
Declare his Birth, his Country, and his Name.

Of humble Parents, on the Banks of Tweed,
Simplicius led his Master's Flocks to feed,
A wretched Cottage Swain: his Sunday Cheer
Was Kale and oaten Bread, and Water was his Beer.
Despis'd, and poor, he liv'd, till call'd by Fate
The Plains he left upon my Lord to wait.
Now first, the homely Sheepskin cast aside,
A Livery trim'd with Lace indulg'd his native Pride:
Nor Fortune ceas'd where she so well began,
But made him soon his Lordship's Gentleman;
And with her unexpected Favours grac'd,
On mighty Things his sanguine Hopes are plac'd.

Tall was his Stature, blooming was his Face,
Large were his Limbs, and stately was his Pace;
His ample Shoulders wide well seem'd to prove
Him fitted for the active part of Love:
In comely Order his black shining Hair
Hung curling to his Waste, and wanton'd in the Air.

Brisk were his Eyes, and sparkling was their Fire,
Of Love expressive, glowing with Desire.
Nature on Him did lavishly dispense
All outward Charms; but covetous of Sense,
She gave him scarce a Grain:—
Though what she had in that respect deny'd,
Was with Assurance most abundantly supply'd.

Auspicious Stars his natal Hour had bless'd
With smiling Omens; Fortune him confess'd
Her Favourite; and Love where-e'er he came
With sure Success indulg'd his changing Flame:
Nor here forsakes him:—but with new-born Fires,
Her former Vows forgot, Cleanthe's Breast inspires.

Ungrateful Fair! is Valentino's Love
Rewarded thus? canst Thou unfaithful prove
To so sincere a Flame? how canst Thou bear
To see him rack'd and tortur'd with Despair,
Whom Thou so well hast lov'd? within whose Arms
So often Thou hast lain? whose blooming Charms

Thou hast beheld enraptur'd?—is He now
Less lovely than He was? Not He, but Thou,
False Maid! art alter'd: He continues still
To place his Heav'n in Thee, to make thy Will
The Rule of his Desires.—From thy Brows
His Days are fair or low'ring, all his Vows
Ascend for Thee alone, his faithful Heart
Thinks thine so too, nor knows how false Thou art.

Assist, Melpomene! with ev'ry Strain
Of moving Woe, whilst I the Lover's Pain,
The racking Pain of slighted Love declare,
His Grief, his Rage, his Madness, and Despair.

Not long, tho' with deceitful Smiles she try'd,
Could she her Change from Valentino hide;
Too plain, alas! her Falshood He descries:
For what can 'scape a Lover's piercing Eyes?

And now, all Bounds rejecting, thro' his Soul,
Strongest by Turns, contending Passions roll.

Grief, Anger, Love, Compassion for the Fair,
Scorn for his Rival, for himself Despair.
When furious Winds from different Quarters roar,
And drive the Surges headlong on the Shore,
When Mountain-high the foaming Billows rise,
And dash their frothy Tops against the Skies,
Ocean is calm, and Nature is at rest,
If with that Storm compar'd which rages thro' his Breast.

Mad with Despair, he visits every Grove,
The conscious Scenes of his once happy Love:
You Trees! he cries, which form this gloomy Shade,
And heard those Vows my perjur'd Fair One made,
Long may you flourish: may the false One's Name
Long on your Bark upbraid her guilty Flame:
Wide may it spread, observ'd by ev'ry Eye,
Recording luckless Love, and hellish Perjury.

By Isis' winding Stream an Island made,
With Trees o'ergrown, supply'd a pleasing Shade:

Here oft (whilst Cupid smil'd) the Lovers lay
On some green Turf, and happy, pass'd the Day,
While both with eager Emulation strove
How best to shew the Greatness of their Love.
This was the Place Cleanthe most admir'd
Of all the Groves, where oftnest she retir'd
With Valentino, smiling in his Arms;
Where first she own'd her Flame, and bless'd him with her Charms.

This, while the Gods so pleas'd, the blissful Scene
Of perfect Joy and Happiness had been:
'Twas here, by all the Pow'rs Mankind adore,
Eternal Truth ten thousand times she swore,
Swore to be always his:—that Time, nor Fate,
Which all things else destroy, her Flame should e'er abate.

And now, no longer able to sustain
Such racking Grief, such Agonies of Pain,
This very Place the frantick Lover chose,
To end his Sorrows, and compleat his Woes.

Here come, to Heav'n he lifts his streaming Eyes
Worn raw with briny Tears;—You Gods! he cries,
Is there on Earth so lost a Wretch as I,
So void of Hope, so doom'd to Misery?
Why? why? You Pow'rs! am I condemn'd to bear
Hell's Punishment, the Torment of Despair,
While You with Pleasures crown the perjur'd Fair?
What is my Crime, to be thus strangely curst?—
Are there no Gods?—or are the Gods unjust?

With Woes o'erwhelm'd, now to that Bow'r he came,
Where first the false One vow'd a lasting Flame:
Thrice happy Bow'r! he cries, when to these Arms
The yielding Maid gave up her blooming Charms,

How blest didst thou behold me!—In his Breast
Contending Passions struggling stop'd the rest;
Each former Joy does through his Bosom roll,
With present Grief compar'd, and racks his tortur'd Soul.

Raving, outragious grown—
On Death resolv'd, his Pistol in his Hand,
Cursing his Birth, does Valentino stand:
Sternly, around, his furious Eye-balls roll,
And speak the dire Disorder of his Soul.
Here, take, you Gods! he cries, that Life you gave:
I will no longer be this servile Slave;
On your hard Terms my Being I disdain,
And fling your worthless Present back again.
What! shall I live a faithless Woman's Scorn!
Damnation!—'tis a Thought not to be born!
No: spight of all your rigid Fates decree,
This friendly Ball shall end my Pains and Me.

O Woman! Woman! hellish Sex! design'd
To tempt, betray, torment, and damn Mankind!
Confusion on You all! Plagues blast your Charms!
And Death eternal harbour in your Arms!

No more He said:—through his distracted Brain
The hissing Bullet drove, and ended all his Pain.