University of Virginia Library

Elegy.

The Elegy, that loves a mournful stile,
With unbound hair weeps at a Funeral Pile,
It paints the Lovers Torments, and Delights,
A Mistress Flatters, Threatens, and Invites :
But well these Raptures if you'l make us see,
You must know Love, as well as Poetry.
I hate those Lukewarm Authors, whose for'cd Fire
In a cold stile describes a hot Desire,
That sigh by Rule, and raging in cold blood
Their sluggish Muse whip to an Amorous mood :
Their feign'd Transports appear but flat and vain ;
They always sigh, and alwayes hug their Chain,
Adore their Prison, and their Suff'rings bless,
Make Sence and Reason quarrel as they please.
'Twas not of old in this affected Tone
That Smooth Tibullus made his Amorous moan ;
Nor Ovid, when, Instructed from above,
By Nature's Rules he, taught the Art of Love.
The Heart in Elegies forms the Discourse.