The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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| IV. | ELEGY IV. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
53
ELEGY IV.
Disappointed at not meeting Julia, he accuses her of Inconstancy.
Faint as the lustre of a lonely star,
That sheds through night's abyss his distant fire,
Hope feebly glimmer'd on my heart's despair:
Behold, behold, at length her lamp expire!
That sheds through night's abyss his distant fire,
Hope feebly glimmer'd on my heart's despair:
Behold, behold, at length her lamp expire!
Know, lovely virgin, thy deluding art
Hath lodg'd a thousand scorpions in my breast.
Oh, say what happier rival wins thy heart?
Say, am I there no more a welcome guest?
Hath lodg'd a thousand scorpions in my breast.
Oh, say what happier rival wins thy heart?
Say, am I there no more a welcome guest?
To a false fair-one have I told my tale?
For a false fair-one fondly sigh'd so long?
Why, dear deceiver, did thy charms prevail?
Thy charms the subject of my ev'ry song.
For a false fair-one fondly sigh'd so long?
Why, dear deceiver, did thy charms prevail?
Thy charms the subject of my ev'ry song.
Ye swains who heard so oft my raptur'd lays,
False is the damsel that your wonder drew;
Ye nymphs who listen'd to the lavish'd praise,
My soul's soft idol proves at length untrue.
False is the damsel that your wonder drew;
Ye nymphs who listen'd to the lavish'd praise,
My soul's soft idol proves at length untrue.
Nymphs of the vale, for me your pity spare;
Let not my fate, ye swains, your pity draw:
Alas! for faithless beauty drop the tear,
And grieve so fair a diamond holds a flaw.
Let not my fate, ye swains, your pity draw:
Alas! for faithless beauty drop the tear,
And grieve so fair a diamond holds a flaw.
Can Falsehood's stain that dove-like heart defile?
Ah, see the tear by blushing Honour shed!
Lurks perfidy beneath that heavenly smile?
See Love with horror mark the guilty maid.
Ah, see the tear by blushing Honour shed!
Lurks perfidy beneath that heavenly smile?
See Love with horror mark the guilty maid.
54
Yet, yet the tyrant of my breast she reigns:
Restless for her it heaves with constant sighs;
My wounded heart of cruelty complains,
Yet softly pleads her pardon while it dies.
Restless for her it heaves with constant sighs;
My wounded heart of cruelty complains,
Yet softly pleads her pardon while it dies.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |