 | Matthew Prior. Poems on Several Occasions |  |
8
An ODE.
[While blooming Youth, and gay Delight]
I
While blooming Youth, and gay DelightSit on thy rosey Cheeks confest;
Thou hast, my Dear, undoubted Right
To triumph o'er this destin'd Breast.
My Reason bends to what thy Eyes ordain;
For I was born to Love, and Thou to Reign.
II
But would You meanly thus relyOn Power, You know I must Obey?
Exert a Legal Tyranny,
And do an Ill; because You may?
Still must I Thee, as Atheists Heav'n adore;
Not see thy Mercy, and yet dread thy Power?
III
Take Heed, my Dear: Youth flies apace:As well as Cupid, Time is blind:
Soon must those Glories of thy Face
The Fate of vulgar Beauty find:
The Thousand Loves, that arm thy potent Eye,
Must drop their Quivers, flag their Wings, and die.
IV
Then wilt Thou sigh; when in each FrownA hateful Wrinkle more appears;
And putting peevish Humours on,
Seems but the sad Effect of Years:
Kindness it self too weak a Charm will prove,
To raise the feeble Fires of aged Love.
9
V
Forc'd Compliments, and formal BowsWill show Thee just above Neglect:
The Heat, with which thy Lover glows,
Will settle into cold Respect:
A talking dull Platonic I shall turn;
Learn to be civil, when I cease to burn.
VI
Then shun the Ill, and know, my Dear,Kindness and Constancy will prove
The only Pillars fit to bear
So vast a Weight as that of Love.
If Thou can'st wish to make My Flames endure;
Thine must be very fierce, and very pure.
VII
Haste, Celia, haste, while Youth invites;Obey kind Cupid's present Voice;
Fill ev'ry Sense with soft Delights,
And give thy Soul a Loose to Joys:
Let Millions of repeated Blisses prove,
That Thou all Kindness art, and I all Love.
VIII
Be Mine, and only Mine: take careThy Looks, thy Thoughts, thy Dreams to guide
To Me alone; nor come so far,
As liking any Youth beside:
What Men e'er court Thee, fly 'em, and believe,
They're Serpents all, and Thou the tempted Eve.
IX
So shall I court thy dearest Truth;When Beauty ceases to engage:
So thinking on thy charming Youth,
I'll love it o'er again in Age:
So Time it self our Raptures shall improve;
While still We wake to Joy, and live to Love.
| Matthew Prior. Poems on Several Occasions | |