 | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison |  |
109
Laodamia to Protesilaus
When he lay Wind bound at Aulis, on board the Grecian Fleet, designed against Troy.
Swell'd the stretch'd Sails, and smooth'd the peaceful Seas.
When, o'er the Waves, in Thought thy Course I sped,
Whilst on thy Eyes my famish'd Eyes were fed:
Nor could my Eyes the lovely Scene detain,
Dimm'd by my Tears, and dizzy by the Main.
But lost to those thy flutt'ring Sails pursue,
Thy flutt'ring Sails still less'ning to my View,
Float o'er the blewy Surge, and seem to wave Adieu.
Now bent beneath a Weight of Woe I stood,
With Eyes still fixing on the Desart Flood,
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And Grief suffus'd a Night of Shades around.
Near was I lost to ev'ry healing Power,
And scarce my Friends my fleeting Soul restore.
Kind tho' their Care, yet kind alas in vain,
Me they reviv'd, but ah! reviv'd to Pain.
With Life's new Tides, new Tides of Sorrow flow,
Grief melts my Soul, and Love dissolves to Woe.
New Scenes of Sorrows to my Soul appear,
Hear in each Sigh, and stream in ev'ry Tear.
No more my Dress reveals the easy Fair,
But, like my self, neglected, suits my Care.
No Flower-wrought Robes my tender Limbs infold,
Shaded with Dyes or interwove with Gold:
No more my Locks with starry Gems imprest,
Soft-waving, flow adown my rising Breast:
But frantick as some Bacchanal, I go,
Alike in Figure, and alike in Woe.
In vain the fair Physicians sunk in ease,
With Female Airs my Soul distracted teaze;
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Dress and be gay; for so becomes the Fair:
And let the costly Pomp of Dress delight;
Whilst thou in Arms, sustain'st the Toils of Fight.
Shall purple Robes these careless Limbs invest,
And the rough Buckler brace thy tortur'd Breast?
Shall my loose Locks diffusive Odors shed,
And the big Helmet load my Warrior's Head?
| The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | |