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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ANACREONTIC.
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 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
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ANACREONTIC.
TO CUPID.
Hither, god of pleasing pain,
Hither bring my wand'ring swain;
See, my bow'r is hung with roses,
On my couch content reposes;
See, fond hope her blush concealing,
O'er the ivy'd threshold stealing;
While to meet her, bliss advances—
Mark their soft extatic glances!
Here shall mirth his revels keep,
While dull care retires to weep.
Hither bring my wand'ring swain;
See, my bow'r is hung with roses,
On my couch content reposes;
See, fond hope her blush concealing,
O'er the ivy'd threshold stealing;
While to meet her, bliss advances—
Mark their soft extatic glances!
Here shall mirth his revels keep,
While dull care retires to weep.
Now the myrtle wreaths divine
Round my auburn tresses twine;
See, my white transparent vest
Scarce confines my beating breast;
Hark! the lyre's melodious measure
Wakes the vapid soul to pleasure;
Light-heel'd graces, tripping round,
Scarcely print the velvet ground:
Time arrests his busy wing,
And wantons in the sportive ring;
See! his scythe he throws away,
And scorns to stint the rapt'rous day!
See, advancing full of glee,
Laughing health and jollity!
Dapper fairies, skipping, strew
Fragrant buds begemm'd with dew!
See, the rosy god of wine,
Crown'd with clust'ring boughs of vine,
Sportive, mirth-inspiring guest,
Temp'rance leads to grace the feast!
Round my auburn tresses twine;
See, my white transparent vest
Scarce confines my beating breast;
Hark! the lyre's melodious measure
Wakes the vapid soul to pleasure;
283
Scarcely print the velvet ground:
Time arrests his busy wing,
And wantons in the sportive ring;
See! his scythe he throws away,
And scorns to stint the rapt'rous day!
See, advancing full of glee,
Laughing health and jollity!
Dapper fairies, skipping, strew
Fragrant buds begemm'd with dew!
See, the rosy god of wine,
Crown'd with clust'ring boughs of vine,
Sportive, mirth-inspiring guest,
Temp'rance leads to grace the feast!
See, the tuneful nine advance;
And valour, with his laurel'd lance;
And sport, with glowing cheek of fire;
And bright-ey'd truth, and young desire;
While in their train, with modest mien,
Divine philanthropy is seen!
And gentle friendship wand'ring nigh,
And sympathy with tearful eye;
While godlike genius, heav'n's best boast,
Sheds radiance o'er the glitt'ring host!
And valour, with his laurel'd lance;
And sport, with glowing cheek of fire;
And bright-ey'd truth, and young desire;
While in their train, with modest mien,
Divine philanthropy is seen!
And gentle friendship wand'ring nigh,
And sympathy with tearful eye;
While godlike genius, heav'n's best boast,
Sheds radiance o'er the glitt'ring host!
Come, then, god of pleasing pain,
Come, then, with my wand'ring swain;
See, my bow'r drops ruby wine,
Canopy'd with twisted vine!
See, in every citron grove,
Luscious fruits, to feast my love.
Bring him quickly, darling boy!
Touch his heart with conscious joy:
If he pines with jealous fears,
With thy breath disperse his tears;
If he sighs repentant, say,
Love shall waft those sighs away!
Come, then, with my wand'ring swain;
284
Canopy'd with twisted vine!
See, in every citron grove,
Luscious fruits, to feast my love.
Bring him quickly, darling boy!
Touch his heart with conscious joy:
If he pines with jealous fears,
With thy breath disperse his tears;
If he sighs repentant, say,
Love shall waft those sighs away!
Zephyr, whose enamell'd wing
Fans the perfum'd breast of spring,
Essence on my pillow throws,
Pilfer'd from the musky rose;
Pillow! thou shalt ne'er be press'd
Till my vagrant love shall rest!
Fans the perfum'd breast of spring,
Essence on my pillow throws,
Pilfer'd from the musky rose;
Pillow! thou shalt ne'er be press'd
Till my vagrant love shall rest!
Say, thou rosy urchin, say,
Is not life a fleeting day?
Morn, a scene of childish folly;
Evening, cold and melancholy?
Let us revel while 'tis noon;
Sombre night will shroud us soon.
Is not life a fleeting day?
Morn, a scene of childish folly;
Evening, cold and melancholy?
Let us revel while 'tis noon;
Sombre night will shroud us soon.
See the star of twilight peep
O'er yon mountain's dusky steep;
Round thy brow thy fillet bind:
Love that roves, is ever blind!
Soft, perhaps the truant swain
Sighs some other nymph to gain:—
Gentle urchin, if 'tis so,
Let the silly wand'rer go.
O'er yon mountain's dusky steep;
Round thy brow thy fillet bind:
Love that roves, is ever blind!
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Sighs some other nymph to gain:—
Gentle urchin, if 'tis so,
Let the silly wand'rer go.
No, he comes! I own thy skill!
Now, let the fates do what they will!
Now, let the fates do what they will!
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |