Marinda Poems and Translations upon Several Occasions [by Mary Monck] |
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A Translation from Tasso. Gierusalemme liberata.
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 | Marinda |  |
132
A Translation from Tasso. Gierusalemme liberata.
Mean while, Erminia, 'midst the shady TreesOf a thick aged Wood, half dead with fear,
Pursu'd what way the nimble Courser chose,
Whose slackned Reins her trembling Hand scarce held:
Thro' the dark various Pathless Windings, he
His Mistress bore; safe out of sight, or reach.
As after a long toylsome Chace, the Hounds
(Their Game in closest Coverts hid and lost)
Panting and sad, back in the Evening turn;
The Warriours so, with Wrath and Anger fill'd,
Their weary Steps bend homeward; whilst she flies,
Pale, and dismay'd, nor ever turns to see,
Whether she's still pursu'd: all Night she flies,
All Day, and wanders without Help or Guide,
Nor hears or sees ought but her Fears and Cries:
And now the Sun from radiant Carr had loos'd
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When to clear Jordan's gliding Stream she came,
Lit on his flow'ry Bank, and laid her down.
She took no Food, her Griefs were all her Food,
She thirsted after nothing but her Tears:
Till Sleep, that with its sweet forgetfulness,
To wretched Mortals rest and quiet brings,
Spread o'er the Maid his gentle peaceful Wings,
Lockt up her Senses, and her Sorrows still'd:
Nathless, fond busie Love in various shapes
Ceas'd not t'intrude and trouble her Repose:
The warbling Birds that with their joyous Songs,
Welcome the dawning Day; the murm'ring Brooks,
The rus'ling Boughs, and the cool sportive Breese
That curles the Stream, and brushes o'er the Flow'rs,
Awak'd the Maid—
Imperfect.
| Marinda | |