The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
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 | III. |
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THE ADMONITION.
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 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
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THE ADMONITION.
AFTER THE MANNER OF THE ANCIENT POETS.
Lady! 'tis somewhat strange to find
You still are pleasing, still are kind,
Still gay and lovely, fair and free,
To all—but me!
You still are pleasing, still are kind,
Still gay and lovely, fair and free,
To all—but me!
Ah! lady! when those azure eyes
A knight right loyal would surprise;
If you are just, if you can see,
You'll turn to me!
A knight right loyal would surprise;
If you are just, if you can see,
You'll turn to me!
I first ador'd you in your prime,
I follow'd you with restless time;
Yet still a thousand charms I see
That still please me!
I follow'd you with restless time;
Yet still a thousand charms I see
That still please me!
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Some wou'd declare those eyes were less
With speaking lustre taught to bless;
Yet temper'd sweetness now I see,
More dear to me!
With speaking lustre taught to bless;
Yet temper'd sweetness now I see,
More dear to me!
Some would those scanty tresses scorn;
I think thy brows they best adorn
When they no longer wanton free,
Except for me!
I think thy brows they best adorn
When they no longer wanton free,
Except for me!
'Tis true they now are sprinkled o'er
With silvery lustre; I adore
The placid hue—whose modesty
Most charmeth me!
With silvery lustre; I adore
The placid hue—whose modesty
Most charmeth me!
They do not, like the golden day,
As erst in wild confusion play:
Such dazzling fires I hate to see,
They sicken me!
As erst in wild confusion play:
Such dazzling fires I hate to see,
They sicken me!
Thy smooth fair cheek its rosy hue
Hath lost; but tho' 'tis gone, I view
The tear of sensibility—
That witcheth me!
Hath lost; but tho' 'tis gone, I view
The tear of sensibility—
That witcheth me!
Soft airs of tender languishment,
And sighs, with tears of discontent,
For boys' fond passion's spring may be—
But not for me!
And sighs, with tears of discontent,
For boys' fond passion's spring may be—
But not for me!
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I cannot jealous fear endure:
If wounded much, I seek a cure;
I must be lov'd, fair nymph, or free:
So answer me?
If wounded much, I seek a cure;
I must be lov'd, fair nymph, or free:
So answer me?
I swear to love you, if you prove
Deserving such a lover's love;
I swear till death your slave to be:
Then list to me!
Deserving such a lover's love;
I swear till death your slave to be:
Then list to me!
But first my love must be repaid:
I cannot see my being fade,
And sigh and mourn, unless I see
You sigh with me!
I cannot see my being fade,
And sigh and mourn, unless I see
You sigh with me!
Think, lady, you are past your prime,
And soon will be the slave of time!
For time will never constant be,
Lady, like me!
And soon will be the slave of time!
For time will never constant be,
Lady, like me!
He changes with the passing hour,
He fades to dust the sweetest flow'r;
And you again may never see
A swain like me!
He fades to dust the sweetest flow'r;
And you again may never see
A swain like me!
'Tis autumn, lady! summer's o'er!
You will behold a spring no more!
Then let your winter moments be
Still gay with me!
You will behold a spring no more!
Then let your winter moments be
Still gay with me!
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |