University of Virginia Library

To Amasia.

[Hark—how I sigh, mark the last dying Groan]

Hark—how I sigh, mark the last dying Groan,
Feel how my Heart beats thick—observe my Moan,
My Breath comes short, and now—
Now in that other sigh my Soul is gone.
Now, do I faint, yet oft, too oft revive;
(Happy the dead; none can be blest alive.
From Tortures freed, but to be kept in pain,
I am, like Sentenc'd Wretches, rack'd again.
See, how my changing Colour comes and goes,
See, how Amasia smiles, yet all my suff'rings knows
See, how my Tears my Sickly visage drown,
See, how they fall—
And drop by drop trace one another down.
Stream on, for there the Lovely Charmer stands,
Stream, till she dries you with her tender Hands.
False Tears! yet Kind, tho' False; O kind surprize!
My Tears afford me what my Sight denies;
My Tears present her Image to my Eyes.
To the true view Amasia ne'er appears,
And yet she kindly Dances in my Tears.
Kindly?—ah! no; such Mirth yields no relief,
She, Dancing, Triumphs in her Lover's grief.
Blindness by Weeping, I to sight prefer,
If only Weeping can present me her.
Since, but by loss of sight, her form I find,
To Weep, is seeing; all sight else is Blind.
Thus, the effect of grief, the grief destroys,
And thus my very sorrows yield me Joys.
In every drop Amasia I espy,
Amasia, always in my Tears, but never in my Eye.
Strange! that your Soul not the least softness bears!
Strange! that thou know'st not pity, yet art lodg'd in Tears!
Still as they flow, they bring thy Image on,
Thy Image is in every Torrent gone;
I think—
I see a thousand Charmers; seeing none.
By some Learn'd Sage I must instructed be,
If 'tis the fancy, or the Eyes that see.
Let me not boast oft so your form I view,
My Sorrows multiply, as fast as you.
Above all Gemms, I prize each flowing Tear,
There 'tis you shine, that's bright Amasia's Sphere,
Thou, the fair Orb art ever rowling there.
Thro' Waters thus enlighten'd fancy Spies,
What the clear Air to eager sight denies;
Thus the Sun's seen in Streams, tho' Clouded in the Skies.
Thus did the Flood to fond Narcissus shew
What no search else thro' the whole World could do.
When with each falling drop Amasia goes,
The next succeeding drop a new Amasia shows.
False Omen that!—I see all's Shadow now;
For thou thy self art fled—
How wilt thou come again? instruct me, how?
For thy true loss—
Think, Charmer, think how Pompous is my woe,
When thus I Weep to see thy Shaddow go?
Like Radiant Sol, from the Tumultuous Main,
From Tears you rise, and set in Tears again.
While thus thy form appears in watry Eyes,
From Floods I see a Second Venus rise.