University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Wiccamical Chaplet

a selection of original poetry; comprising smaller poems, serious and comic; classical trifles; sonnets; inscriptions and epitaphs; songs and ballads; mock-heroics, epigrams, fragments, &c. &c. Edited by George Huddesford
  
  

collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE COMPLAINT OF THE ROSE.
  
  
  
  
  
  


217

THE COMPLAINT OF THE ROSE.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Too cruel Clara, deign to spare
A little moment to my prayer;
And hear a Flower lament its woes,
The sweetest of all flowers, the Rose!
The flower whose blush is most like thine,
Whose breath, like yours, is breath divine.
Too cruel, cease your fatal skill:
There sure are men enough to kill:
Why then on Me exert your power,
And play the tyrant with a Flower?
When first upon your snowy breast,
Soft seat of Innocence and Rest,
The Summer's and the Garden's pride,
A willing Captive I was tied,
Aloft I bore my glowing head,
More fresh than in my native bed;
Tho' sometimes tempted to recline
(For once forgive the bold design;
Since We, as well as Gods and Men,
Must needs be amorous now and then:)
I stoop'd into the Vale of Bliss,
And dar'd to snatch a lawless kiss,
Perusing, with presumptuous care,
The mighty World of Beauty there,

218

Those treasures of unveil'd delight
Which bless with ecstacy the sight;
Whose touch e'en languid Age might move,
And make a Hermit mad with Love:
But now, alas! how chang'd my fate!
How fall'n from my exalted state!
And still more cruel, Clara fair,
Dethron'd by you, who plac'd me there.