Poems, chiefly pastoral By John Cunningham. The second edition. With the Addition of several pastorals and other pieces |
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 | Poems, chiefly pastoral |  |
107
ANACREON. ODE XIV. Imitated.
Why did I with Love engage!
Why provoke his mighty rage!
Why provoke his mighty rage!
True it is the wand'ring child,
Met me with an aspect mild,
And besought me like a friend,
At his gentle shrine to bend.
True, from my mistaken pride,
Due devotion was deny'd,
'Till (because I would not yield)
Cupid dar'd me to the field.
Met me with an aspect mild,
And besought me like a friend,
At his gentle shrine to bend.
True, from my mistaken pride,
Due devotion was deny'd,
'Till (because I would not yield)
Cupid dar'd me to the field.
Now I'm in my armour clasp'd,
Now the mighty lance is grasp'd,
But an Achileian spear
Would be ineffectual here,
While the poison'd arrows fly
Hot, as lightning from the sky.
Now the mighty lance is grasp'd,
But an Achileian spear
Would be ineffectual here,
While the poison'd arrows fly
Hot, as lightning from the sky.
108
Wounded, thro' the woods I run,
Follow'd still by Beauty's son,
Arrows in malignant showers,
Still the angry urchin pours;
'Till exhausting all his store,
(When the quiver yields no more)
See the God—a living dart,
Shoots himself into my heart.
Follow'd still by Beauty's son,
Arrows in malignant showers,
Still the angry urchin pours;
'Till exhausting all his store,
(When the quiver yields no more)
See the God—a living dart,
Shoots himself into my heart.
Freedom I must, now, resign,
Victory, oh Love, is thine!
What can outward actions win
When the battle burns within!
Victory, oh Love, is thine!
What can outward actions win
When the battle burns within!
| Poems, chiefly pastoral | |