The works of Alexander Pennecuik of New-Hall, M.D.; containing the description of Tweeddale, and miscellaneous poems. A new edition, with copious notes, forming a complete history of the county to the present time. To which are prefixed, memoirs of Dr Pennecuik, and a map of the shire of Peebles, or Tweeddale |
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A TRIUMPH AFTER ENJOYMENT. |
 | The works of Alexander Pennecuik |  |
A TRIUMPH AFTER ENJOYMENT.
Laurels, the prize unto a hero due,In this blest hour come deck a lover's brow;
Though hitherto I fate could perverse call,
This kind return doth make amends for all.
I've gain'd that beauty which I held so dear,
The conquest cost me only some few tears:
I have her in my arms, her kindness now does more
Than pay the pains she gave me heretofore.
It was less task Argus to lull asleep,
Than to elude the care with which she's kept,
Yea such a troop of lovers blocked my way,
I rag'd and storm'd impatient of delay.
She gave the means, which I strove to improve,
And in the end she crown'd my constant love.
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As the reward is great the glory's so;
Yet I do hold that triumphs greater far
Are due to love than to the scarlet war:
Love only art, war force does often guide,
And fickle chance puts victory on the side.
I have not beleagred towns, which being gain'd,
The conquests with the blood of thousands stain'd;
I bound my wishes, labour with all art
To foil and gain the ravisher of my heart.
When Agamemnon had ransacked Troy,
Of the exploit he had no fruit nor joy;
So many heroes in it had a share,
While he the name of chief did only bear.
I gain alone, in it does none partake,
Nor crave a half of such a glorious stake.
Love had cashier'd me, had I begg'd for aid,
To seem to ask it, I had been afraid;
I general am, who leads my army on,
I captain am, and soldier, both in one,
I ensign bearer, who with all my might,
Under the ensigns which I bear, do fight.
It's not to fortune that I owe my lot,
I had been happy had she pleas'd or not;
For such a noble ardour fires my blood,
In vain my just designs fate had withstood.
This way of talking seems perhaps too brisk,
But what will not one for a mistress risk?
Love maketh cowards dare to enterprize
Things which seem miracles to vulgar eyes.
Never the world had heard such loud alarms,
If Paris had not known fair Helen's charms;
The Trojans ne'er had gain'd proud Italy,
If Turnus had not been content to see,
Rather his empire than his passion die;
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Themselves to Rome, and prov'd its greatest foes,
If losing what of life they held most dear,
To lose what still remain'd they did not fear.
Love's a great sire, inspired with his heat,
I saw two bulls with equal fury meet,
They push'd at other with such eager strife,
As when two rivals fight for death and life.
Sure he's a fool, who coming to possess
What's truly lovely, thinks't no happiness.
I have attracted, gain'd, and have enjoy'd,
Till both my eyes and appetite are cloy'd;
Of some few sighs I grant I had the pain,
A sober loss for such a mighty gain.
| The works of Alexander Pennecuik | |