 | The works, in verse and prose, of the late Robert Treat Paine, Jun. Esq |  |
139
THE COUNTRY GIRL TO MENANDER.
Oh! cease thy too seducive strain,
Nor touch the warbling harp again;
The rapturing tones invade my heart,
And Peace and Rest will soon depart;
Love, with his downy, purple wing,
Will to my breast his roses bring;
But, ah! beneath their roseate dye,
The sharpest thorns of Anguish lie:
Then hush the enchanting, soul-detaining lyre,
And let Indiff'rence quench the kindling fire.
Nor touch the warbling harp again;
The rapturing tones invade my heart,
And Peace and Rest will soon depart;
Love, with his downy, purple wing,
Will to my breast his roses bring;
But, ah! beneath their roseate dye,
The sharpest thorns of Anguish lie:
Then hush the enchanting, soul-detaining lyre,
And let Indiff'rence quench the kindling fire.
Yet, oh 'tis rich, to hear the trilling sounds;
On the full swell,
With rapture dwell,
As the slow numbers steal along the grounds;
Then as they rise in air,
And on the fragrant zephyrs float,
And wanton there,
How sweet, to catch the silver note!
But Wisdom wills the stern decree,
And puts a lasting bar, 'twixt love and me.
The streams of joy, that Cupid sips,
And where he laves his gilded plumes,
Must never glisten on the lips,
She says, where sober Wisdom blooms.
On the full swell,
With rapture dwell,
As the slow numbers steal along the grounds;
Then as they rise in air,
And on the fragrant zephyrs float,
And wanton there,
How sweet, to catch the silver note!
But Wisdom wills the stern decree,
And puts a lasting bar, 'twixt love and me.
The streams of joy, that Cupid sips,
And where he laves his gilded plumes,
Must never glisten on the lips,
She says, where sober Wisdom blooms.
Thou call'st me from my native grove,
And bid'st me tell where 'tis I rove;
It is, the Goddess bids me say,
Where Love and thou must never stray:
Where Peace and Pleasure constant bloom,
And Rapture smiles around the tomb.
But though alone, with mental eye,
This form thou ne'er must view;
In answer to this deep drawn sigh,
Breathe me one last adieu;
So may full tides of joy around thee flow,
And life's more fragrant flow'rets ever blow.
And bid'st me tell where 'tis I rove;
140
Where Love and thou must never stray:
Where Peace and Pleasure constant bloom,
And Rapture smiles around the tomb.
But though alone, with mental eye,
This form thou ne'er must view;
In answer to this deep drawn sigh,
Breathe me one last adieu;
So may full tides of joy around thee flow,
And life's more fragrant flow'rets ever blow.
| The works, in verse and prose, of the late Robert Treat Paine, Jun. Esq | |