 | A collection of original poems and translations |  |
'Twas thus the Cyclops sooth'd his fierce Desire,
When Galatea fill'd his Soul with Fire;
Just as the rising Down his Manhood spoke,
Nor yet his Voice to Notes too harsh was broke.
'Twas not with gentle Gifts he woo'd the Fair,
Nor glitt'ring Dress, nor nicely curling Hair;
But raging keen Desire possest him whole,
And Love's wild Tempest madded in his Soul.
His Sheep unheeded oft at Night went Home,
His Herds he valued not, but chose to roam
The Melancholy beaten Surge along,
And to the rolling Surges tune his Song.
So strongly dipp'd, so ranc'rous was the Dart,
With which great Venus pierc'd the Shepherd's Heart,
One Remedy he found,—the Rock on high
He climb'd, and on the Green Sea cast his Eye,
And thus he sung, and wish'd his fair One by.
When Galatea fill'd his Soul with Fire;
Just as the rising Down his Manhood spoke,
Nor yet his Voice to Notes too harsh was broke.
'Twas not with gentle Gifts he woo'd the Fair,
Nor glitt'ring Dress, nor nicely curling Hair;
But raging keen Desire possest him whole,
And Love's wild Tempest madded in his Soul.
153
His Herds he valued not, but chose to roam
The Melancholy beaten Surge along,
And to the rolling Surges tune his Song.
So strongly dipp'd, so ranc'rous was the Dart,
With which great Venus pierc'd the Shepherd's Heart,
One Remedy he found,—the Rock on high
He climb'd, and on the Green Sea cast his Eye,
And thus he sung, and wish'd his fair One by.
| A collection of original poems and translations | |