 | Familiar letters and poems on several occasions |  |
CYDIPPE to LEONZO.
[_]
Leonzo by strong Pretensions of Love, but full of Deceit, robb'd the chast Cydippe of her Honour; this Misfortune hung so heavy upon her, that it brought on her Death; while in her Sickness, to reform Leonzo, and set his Crime before his View, she wrote the following Epistle.
Er'e this thou read'st Cydippe is no more;
For thee alone, ungrateful as thou art,
To purge thy Passions, and amend thy Heart.
For thee alone, the trembling Pen I take,
Willing my Woe, thy Happiness to make.
238
How warm my Love, how virtuous, and how true;
Thy tender Sighs my Heart's fond Pity mov'd,
And I at first through mere Compassion lov'd;
But as I found thy Fondness still the same,
Still kind thy Treatment, and still pure thy Flame;
No more I wish'd, or study'd to be free,
But frankly all my Heart resign'd to thee:
So true my Love, of change I nothing guest,
Nor dreaded ought, with thy Protection blest;
Shield me just Heav'n, Leonzo's self betrays,
And my bright Flame with Perfidy repays!
Ev'n he, my Guide, my Guardian and my Friend,
Lov'd to assist, and chosen to defend:
Ev'n he becomes the Viper in my Breast,
Despoils my Love, and lays my Comfort waste!
239
And well, well, weigh the Triumph thou hast won.
Lo, 'tis o'er me whose Heart was all thy own,
Who lov'd thee well, and lov'd but thee alone;
Who for thy sake each Hardship would have try'd,
Who glad to make thee happy would have dy'd.
And her, for one short Interval of Blame,
A transient Joy that thou shouldst blush to name,
Her hast thou robb'd of ev'ry Human Bliss,
Fair Virtue, soft Content, and smiling Peace;
And no return; condemn'd to drag the Chain
Of Shame, Remorse, and self-consuming Pain.
Hadst thou some Mean, some unknown Maid abus'd,
Nought could a Deed so black have e'er excus'd:
240
When such the base return of virtuous Love;
When unsuspected on th'unguarded Maid,
Her own Protector steals, and all her Soul's betray'd.
Beware ye Virgins of the Lover's Lure,
Ye cannot be too wary, too secure;
The faithless Wantons Triumph to deceive,
Laugh at our Tears, and Joy to see us Grieve.
Yet sure Leonzo, sure it cannot be,
That all are cruel, all unjust as thee!
There are, kind Heav'n augment the happy Few,
Who scorn those Paths that Libertines persue;
In whose pure Love the Virgin may confide,
But ah, how rare!-and what to chuse the Guide?
By what strange Art shall we discern the True,
From Lovers, oh Leonzo, false as you!
241
Wild roves the Rake thro' Pleasures flow'ry Way;
The Virgin's Anguish, and the Parent's Tear,
Mirth to his View, and Music to his Ear!
Ah me, 'tis vain, still many a hapless Fair,
Henceforth, like poor Cydippe, must despair;
More false Leonzo's to their Ruin haste,
And fly to lay each little Eden waste.
Think of the Crime, and View with conscious Thought,
My sad Distress, by thy unkindness wrought;
Reflect how much I lov'd, and to thy Eyes,
Let the dread Guilt in all its Horrors rise;
Let keen remorse afflict thy tortur'd Breast,
And make thee wretched—long to make thee blest.
May'st thou at last the fatal Fault erase,
Disarm Heav'n's Vengeance and resign in Peace.
242
How much for thee she suffer'd, and be mov'd;
Farewell—remember me, nor hope to find,
Repose from ought, but Virtue in thy Mind.
D
| Familiar letters and poems on several occasions | |