Streams from Helicon Or, Poems On Various Subjects. In Three Parts. By Alexander Pennecuik ... The Second Edition. Enter'd in Stationer's Hall |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | III. |
| THE AMOURS OF Polyndus and Ardella. |
 | Streams from Helicon |  |
182
THE AMOURS OF Polyndus and Ardella.
So àmorous, and fond and billing,
Like Philip and Mary on a Shilling.
Hudib.
Like Philip and Mary on a Shilling.
Hudib.
A hero, who in War gain'd ample Glory,
Becomes the Subject of my amorous Story.
Becomes the Subject of my amorous Story.
Polyndus prov'd his Courage in the War,
Brought Honour to his Country from afar:
Whilst yet a stripling Boy, scarce Musquet hight,
He lov'd the Din of War, and went to Fight
With little Will, whom Britain did obey:
Great Souls are always lodg'd in little Clay.
And gather'd Laurels on the Belgian Plain,
Wading 'mongst Blood, and climbing o'er the Slain.
His infant Arms the Sword could scarcely wild;
When he appear'd like Eugine in the Field:
There he immortal Reputation got,
And that bright Character, The valiant Scot.
But when the Gallick Monarch beg'd a Peace,
And Clement William said, now War shall cease;
Polyndus to his native Country came,
Which lov'd him for his Merit and his Fame.
He all the Arts of Conversation had;
O how he spoke and how he did perswade:
The fair were tickl'd with his Eloquence,
And all the Pleasures which could flatter Sense:
Old Matrons chuckl'd when they saw the Boy,
And florid Maids felt an excess of Joy.
His Charms can scarce be imitate or told,
In short the Squire had every thing save Gold.
But it's the spreading Error of the Clime,
That want of Money is the greatest Crime.
Moe than the Mob think he that's void of Pence,
Is void of Learning, Honesty and Sense.
Hence gallant Men and Merit's cloth'd in Rags,
Whilst Knaves and Fools are brooding o'er their Bags.
Beauteous Ardella vanquished the Squire,
And he is scorch'd with Flames of Paphian Fire:
Her lovely Face Polyndus's Bosom warms,
Death's in her Beauty, Ruin in her Charms:
She prov'd the Robber of his Heart's repose,
The Spring of Mischief, and the Source of Woes.
Ardella was a very lovely Creature,
The very Pride and Master-Peice of Nature:
Nature had stampt a Beauty on her Face,
She spoke and danc'd, and walk'd with a Bon-grace.
The Nymph had Charms could ruin all Mankind;
Men gaz'd upon her till their Eyes were blind:
By her Polyndus lost his martial Mind,
He's wounded by the little Boy that's blind.
Brought Honour to his Country from afar:
Whilst yet a stripling Boy, scarce Musquet hight,
He lov'd the Din of War, and went to Fight
With little Will, whom Britain did obey:
Great Souls are always lodg'd in little Clay.
And gather'd Laurels on the Belgian Plain,
Wading 'mongst Blood, and climbing o'er the Slain.
183
When he appear'd like Eugine in the Field:
There he immortal Reputation got,
And that bright Character, The valiant Scot.
But when the Gallick Monarch beg'd a Peace,
And Clement William said, now War shall cease;
Polyndus to his native Country came,
Which lov'd him for his Merit and his Fame.
He all the Arts of Conversation had;
O how he spoke and how he did perswade:
The fair were tickl'd with his Eloquence,
And all the Pleasures which could flatter Sense:
Old Matrons chuckl'd when they saw the Boy,
And florid Maids felt an excess of Joy.
His Charms can scarce be imitate or told,
In short the Squire had every thing save Gold.
But it's the spreading Error of the Clime,
That want of Money is the greatest Crime.
Moe than the Mob think he that's void of Pence,
Is void of Learning, Honesty and Sense.
Hence gallant Men and Merit's cloth'd in Rags,
Whilst Knaves and Fools are brooding o'er their Bags.
Beauteous Ardella vanquished the Squire,
And he is scorch'd with Flames of Paphian Fire:
Her lovely Face Polyndus's Bosom warms,
Death's in her Beauty, Ruin in her Charms:
She prov'd the Robber of his Heart's repose,
The Spring of Mischief, and the Source of Woes.
Ardella was a very lovely Creature,
The very Pride and Master-Peice of Nature:
184
She spoke and danc'd, and walk'd with a Bon-grace.
The Nymph had Charms could ruin all Mankind;
Men gaz'd upon her till their Eyes were blind:
By her Polyndus lost his martial Mind,
He's wounded by the little Boy that's blind.
Like Rivers, which the Storms of Winter freeze,
The Soldiers doth strong Burthens bear with Ease,
Make bold Resistance to the two edg'd Steel;
But both do melt, when kindly Heat they feel:
Doth not th'Ice resist the Hatchets blows,
But with Meridian Sun it feeble grows.
The Man, who fights for Laurels in the Field,
Will dy in Blood and Wounds before he yield,
When Beauty shines, how feeble doth he prove,
He melts before its Rays, dissolves in Love.
The Soldiers doth strong Burthens bear with Ease,
Make bold Resistance to the two edg'd Steel;
But both do melt, when kindly Heat they feel:
Doth not th'Ice resist the Hatchets blows,
But with Meridian Sun it feeble grows.
The Man, who fights for Laurels in the Field,
Will dy in Blood and Wounds before he yield,
When Beauty shines, how feeble doth he prove,
He melts before its Rays, dissolves in Love.
The Man of Valour's most inclin'd to Love,
He's forc'd by Nature, as the Schoolmen prove:
Th'Original of both is heat of Blood,
This animates the Wariour and the Prude:
The Motions of their Souls are just the same,
They're thirsting after Praise and endless Fame:
By different Ways they strive to overcome,
She by her Face and Flut, he by the Sword and Drum.
He's forc'd by Nature, as the Schoolmen prove:
Th'Original of both is heat of Blood,
This animates the Wariour and the Prude:
The Motions of their Souls are just the same,
They're thirsting after Praise and endless Fame:
By different Ways they strive to overcome,
She by her Face and Flut, he by the Sword and Drum.
Altho' Polyndus's Breast was fortify'd
With all that Sense, and Reason could provide;
The Hero's Soul replenish'd is with Grace,
Yet falls a Victim to a Female Face.
He labour'd to be free of Love's Desease;
But Poison's stronger than its Remedies.
He strove to have this Passion subdued,
But Evil still more active is than Good.
The Means apply'd do often not prevail,
But Poison kills us with its very smell.
Painters observe, tho' Black's excell'd by White,
The last hath ne'er Affinity with Light:
When mix'd together with the Painter's Skill,
White is so feeble, Black doth still prevail.
With all that Sense, and Reason could provide;
The Hero's Soul replenish'd is with Grace,
Yet falls a Victim to a Female Face.
185
But Poison's stronger than its Remedies.
He strove to have this Passion subdued,
But Evil still more active is than Good.
The Means apply'd do often not prevail,
But Poison kills us with its very smell.
Painters observe, tho' Black's excell'd by White,
The last hath ne'er Affinity with Light:
When mix'd together with the Painter's Skill,
White is so feeble, Black doth still prevail.
When rival Monarchs struggle for a Crown,
The Prince that's strongest may be overthrown:
If half his Forces come not to the Field,
The weaker Prince will force him for to yield.
It's otherwise in Love, a single Face
Will conquer much Philosophy and Grace.
The Prince that's strongest may be overthrown:
If half his Forces come not to the Field,
The weaker Prince will force him for to yield.
It's otherwise in Love, a single Face
Will conquer much Philosophy and Grace.
Polyndus left no Method unessay'd
To make a Conquest of the charming Maid:
He spent a Winter and a Spring in vain,
Ardella treat him with a cold Disdain.
Women and Glory always turn their Back,
When their fond Lovers give too close attack.
The low Submission and the humble Prayer
Prevails with Heaven, but seldom with the Fair.
When the wise Lover keeps the golden Meen,
Neither appears too negligent not keen,
The Lady labours to encrease th'Esteem,
With Arts of Love she blows the kindling Coal,
But when she knows she's Mistress of the Soul,
She laughs to think she's choos'd the easy Fool.
Philosophers, acquaint with Nature's Laws,
Look thro' Effects, and dive unto the Cause,
Tell us that Things do naturally expire
By that, which first did give them vital Fire:
If too abundant and excesive grown,
Thus by their Parents are they overthrown.
A heap of Wood thrown rashly on the Fire,
Will make it blaze so high, 'twill soon expire.
Thus Love by an extravagant Caress
Grows ev'ry Day and Hour and Minute less.
Five Months and more Polyndus had essay'd
To win the Heart of this fair cruel Maid;
But got a final Answer from her Mouth,
Pray trouble me no more, she says, fond Youth:
That you are well accomplish'd I must grant,
You are a proper, but a poor Gallant:
I know you love me to a mighty Pitch,
But I resolve to marry one that's Rich.
It's only Money makes a pleasant Life:
It's Gold, and not fine Shapes, must please a Wife.
Great Solomon, that wise and learned Prince,
Says Wisdom's good with an Inheritance.
Begone Polyndus and no more return,
Or be the Object of my Hate and Scorn.
To make a Conquest of the charming Maid:
He spent a Winter and a Spring in vain,
Ardella treat him with a cold Disdain.
Women and Glory always turn their Back,
When their fond Lovers give too close attack.
The low Submission and the humble Prayer
Prevails with Heaven, but seldom with the Fair.
When the wise Lover keeps the golden Meen,
Neither appears too negligent not keen,
The Lady labours to encrease th'Esteem,
186
But when she knows she's Mistress of the Soul,
She laughs to think she's choos'd the easy Fool.
Philosophers, acquaint with Nature's Laws,
Look thro' Effects, and dive unto the Cause,
Tell us that Things do naturally expire
By that, which first did give them vital Fire:
If too abundant and excesive grown,
Thus by their Parents are they overthrown.
A heap of Wood thrown rashly on the Fire,
Will make it blaze so high, 'twill soon expire.
Thus Love by an extravagant Caress
Grows ev'ry Day and Hour and Minute less.
Five Months and more Polyndus had essay'd
To win the Heart of this fair cruel Maid;
But got a final Answer from her Mouth,
Pray trouble me no more, she says, fond Youth:
That you are well accomplish'd I must grant,
You are a proper, but a poor Gallant:
I know you love me to a mighty Pitch,
But I resolve to marry one that's Rich.
It's only Money makes a pleasant Life:
It's Gold, and not fine Shapes, must please a Wife.
Great Solomon, that wise and learned Prince,
Says Wisdom's good with an Inheritance.
Begone Polyndus and no more return,
Or be the Object of my Hate and Scorn.
As th'ancient Painter, Sorrow to express,
Did draw a Vail o'er Agamemnon's Face;
So I shall not Polyndus's Grief relate,
The Reader may believe 'twas very great.
I'll o'er his Grief a Vail of Silence draw,
Since I can't paint it with a coup d' eclate.
Did draw a Vail o'er Agamemnon's Face;
187
The Reader may believe 'twas very great.
I'll o'er his Grief a Vail of Silence draw,
Since I can't paint it with a coup d' eclate.
He came to me, a Lump of walking Woe,
And told me he had got the killing Blow.
And told me he had got the killing Blow.
Take Courage, I reply'd, and don't give o'er,
You have not got her in the Coachman's Hour.
The Course of your Amours, if right, should look
Much like the Progress of a rapid Brook.
Within its Banks it swiftly runs and clear;
But if it meet with stop in its Career,
It gathers all its formidable Strength,
And swells so high it vanquisheth at length.
There is a certain Time, at least it's said,
Most proper for a Man t'address a Maid;
For then her Virtue nods, and she's betray'd.
But when that Season is, I'm not so sure,
Some call it Venus, some the Coachman's Hour.
I've heard a Sage and learn'd Physician say,
He could not condescend on th'Hour or Day:
But August was the fitest Month to Woo,
And us'd this Argument to prove it true.
You have not got her in the Coachman's Hour.
The Course of your Amours, if right, should look
Much like the Progress of a rapid Brook.
Within its Banks it swiftly runs and clear;
But if it meet with stop in its Career,
It gathers all its formidable Strength,
And swells so high it vanquisheth at length.
There is a certain Time, at least it's said,
Most proper for a Man t'address a Maid;
For then her Virtue nods, and she's betray'd.
But when that Season is, I'm not so sure,
Some call it Venus, some the Coachman's Hour.
I've heard a Sage and learn'd Physician say,
He could not condescend on th'Hour or Day:
But August was the fitest Month to Woo,
And us'd this Argument to prove it true.
“In August, when the Sun darts oblique Rays,
“Lengthens the Nights, contracts the sultry Days,
“The Dog Star's Pow'r becomes immensely great;
“He fires the Females with malignant Heat:
“The Earth's excesive dry, the Air is bad,
“And Virgins then, as well as Dogs, run mad.
“If Maids, in Month of August, go astray,
“Skilful Astronomers and Partridge say,
“That Star is only in the wrong, not they.
“Their Flesh and Blood is in a civil War,
“Thro' the impulse of that curs'd unlucky Star.
“Lengthens the Nights, contracts the sultry Days,
“The Dog Star's Pow'r becomes immensely great;
“He fires the Females with malignant Heat:
188
“And Virgins then, as well as Dogs, run mad.
“If Maids, in Month of August, go astray,
“Skilful Astronomers and Partridge say,
“That Star is only in the wrong, not they.
“Their Flesh and Blood is in a civil War,
“Thro' the impulse of that curs'd unlucky Star.
Polyndus wisely follow'd my Advice,
And found Ardella far from being Nice.
August's a happy Month for Men to Woe,
I'm sure my Friend Polyndus found it true.
He catch'd her sleeping in her Summer Bow'r,
He catch'd her in the very Coachman's Hour,
He lay beside her in the verdant Grove,
And in melodious Notes express'd his Love:
And found Ardella far from being Nice.
August's a happy Month for Men to Woe,
I'm sure my Friend Polyndus found it true.
He catch'd her sleeping in her Summer Bow'r,
He catch'd her in the very Coachman's Hour,
He lay beside her in the verdant Grove,
And in melodious Notes express'd his Love:
SONG.
Ye airy Spirits hither throng,
Cause Ardella hear my Song:
Of Polyndus cause her dream;
O inspire her with the Theme.
Cause Ardella hear my Song:
Of Polyndus cause her dream;
O inspire her with the Theme.
Quires of Angels bless the Grove,
Fill Ardellas Breast with Love
O ye Pow'rs, that pity Love,
With soft Fires her Bosom move.
Fill Ardellas Breast with Love
O ye Pow'rs, that pity Love,
With soft Fires her Bosom move.
Heavenly Pow'rs, that know my Grief,
Interpose for my Relief.
Let my solitary Groan
Pierce Heaven's Vault, and reach its Throne.
Must Polyndus always mourn,
Love without the least return.
Interpose for my Relief.
189
Pierce Heaven's Vault, and reach its Throne.
Must Polyndus always mourn,
Love without the least return.
Now she's rock'd into a Calm,
All her Pores do smell like Balm,
Cheeks and Bosom glow with Charms.
I'll embrace her in my Arms,
Clasp and hold her there for ever:
All my Blood is in a Fever.
All her Pores do smell like Balm,
Cheeks and Bosom glow with Charms.
I'll embrace her in my Arms,
Clasp and hold her there for ever:
All my Blood is in a Fever.
Shall I steal her from the Bower,
Fortune's put it in my Pow'r:
She'll be angry if I do,
Love no Rudeness doth allow.
Fortune's put it in my Pow'r:
She'll be angry if I do,
Love no Rudeness doth allow.
If she awake a cruel Lass,
I'll a dreadful Sentence pass,
In her presence make a Vow,
(Soldiers to their Words are true)
If she Mercy won't afford,
She shall see my naked Sword
Wound my Breast and drink my Blood;
She shall see the purple Flood.
I'll a dreadful Sentence pass,
In her presence make a Vow,
(Soldiers to their Words are true)
If she Mercy won't afford,
She shall see my naked Sword
Wound my Breast and drink my Blood;
She shall see the purple Flood.
I'll Bless her with departing Breath,
Bless her in the Arms of Death:
I'll look on her in the last Tug of Nature,
Print gelid Kisses on the killing Creature.
But, if she bid me live, I will obey;
If not, I'll shut my Eyes, dissolve away.
Perhaps she'll smile me back to life again,
One sugar Word from her will cure my Pain.
Bless her in the Arms of Death:
I'll look on her in the last Tug of Nature,
Print gelid Kisses on the killing Creature.
190
If not, I'll shut my Eyes, dissolve away.
Perhaps she'll smile me back to life again,
One sugar Word from her will cure my Pain.
My Sword had always Charms till now;
Perhaps her haughty Sp'rit will bow,
When she sees it she may change,
And prevent the dire Revenge.
Perhaps her haughty Sp'rit will bow,
When she sees it she may change,
And prevent the dire Revenge.
He stole a silent Kiss, and she awoke:
When she beheld Polyndus, thus she spoke.
When she beheld Polyndus, thus she spoke.
“Polyndus I was sleeping when you came,
“Nay, I must tell you, I was in a Dream.
“Nay, I must tell you, I was in a Dream.
To her Polyndus, “O my charming Maid,
“To whom with Zeal my daily Vows are paid,
“My Love to you hath been excessive great;
“I've lov'd in vain, such is my wretched Fate.
“No more shall I be with Love's Pains opprest;
“I'll stab your Image in my throbing Breast.
“This Sword shall kill your Lover; when I'm lost,
“Ardella, you'll be haunted with my Ghost.
“To whom with Zeal my daily Vows are paid,
“My Love to you hath been excessive great;
“I've lov'd in vain, such is my wretched Fate.
“No more shall I be with Love's Pains opprest;
“I'll stab your Image in my throbing Breast.
“This Sword shall kill your Lover; when I'm lost,
“Ardella, you'll be haunted with my Ghost.
“Hold, hold, Ardella crys, what do you mean;
“Patience Polyndus, i'll relate my Dream.
“I thought with that same Sword, you touch'd your Breast,
“I had not Strength enough to bear the rest:
“I cry'd, my dear Polyndus, save your Life,
“And take Ardella for your future Wife.
“Awake, I do the Resolution keep;
“I ratify what I have done in sleep.
“Patience Polyndus, i'll relate my Dream.
“I thought with that same Sword, you touch'd your Breast,
“I had not Strength enough to bear the rest:
“I cry'd, my dear Polyndus, save your Life,
“And take Ardella for your future Wife.
191
“I ratify what I have done in sleep.
Polyndus gave her many a melting Kiss:
He's all in Rapture and extatick Bless,
He's all in Rapture and extatick Bless,
The Wedding Rites perform'd, Joy did succeed;
This August was a honey Month indeed.
Ardella prov'd a fond and loving Wife;
She call'd him still her Love, her Soul, her Life.
Like new created Popes they change their Name:
(He's lost all Reason, she hath lost all Shame.)
His is Heart Pipes; her's little Duty, Spouse:
Such is the kindly Epithets they use.
Sometimes they're almost choak'd with am'rous Blesses,
She rushes on him with a Storm of Kisses,
Ogling hangs round his Neck, he leering spys
Two little smiling Babies in her Eyes.
Where e'er he goes, there goes his loving Bride;
Duty is always packing by his Side.
Once they went forth upon a Morning clear,
To walk upon Clide-Side, and take the Air.
Fond Fools, they mind, ev'n in the glaring Light,
The Action only proper to the Night.
Tho' lawful Love may very well b' exprest,
Yet least lascivious Ardours fire your Breast,
Reader, I shall in Silence pass the rest.
This August was a honey Month indeed.
Ardella prov'd a fond and loving Wife;
She call'd him still her Love, her Soul, her Life.
Like new created Popes they change their Name:
(He's lost all Reason, she hath lost all Shame.)
His is Heart Pipes; her's little Duty, Spouse:
Such is the kindly Epithets they use.
Sometimes they're almost choak'd with am'rous Blesses,
She rushes on him with a Storm of Kisses,
Ogling hangs round his Neck, he leering spys
Two little smiling Babies in her Eyes.
Where e'er he goes, there goes his loving Bride;
Duty is always packing by his Side.
Once they went forth upon a Morning clear,
To walk upon Clide-Side, and take the Air.
Fond Fools, they mind, ev'n in the glaring Light,
The Action only proper to the Night.
Tho' lawful Love may very well b' exprest,
Yet least lascivious Ardours fire your Breast,
Reader, I shall in Silence pass the rest.
Near to the River, on the Brink they ly,
Not dreaming in the least that Trouble's nigh.
But often we imagine all Things well,
When Death and Danger tread upon our Heel.
Not dreaming in the least that Trouble's nigh.
192
When Death and Danger tread upon our Heel.
In Winter Storms this rapid River Clyde,
Did undermind this Brae with raging Tide;
Loos'd from its Roots, and hollow all below,
Unable to support the Weight of two,
It sunk beneath the Hero and the Fair;
Surpriz'd, and almost drown'd, the loving Pair.
Ardella's Fear prevailing over Shame;
She held by what, I'm very loath to name:
Sure none can call her an immodest Wife:
We'll grasp at any Thing to save our Life.
Did undermind this Brae with raging Tide;
Loos'd from its Roots, and hollow all below,
Unable to support the Weight of two,
It sunk beneath the Hero and the Fair;
Surpriz'd, and almost drown'd, the loving Pair.
Ardella's Fear prevailing over Shame;
She held by what, I'm very loath to name:
Sure none can call her an immodest Wife:
We'll grasp at any Thing to save our Life.
The Pow'rs propitious to the nuptial Bed
Dispatch'd aerial Spirits to their Aid.
When Dangers over, they upo' the Bank;
Ardella, not till then, did quite her Plank
Dispatch'd aerial Spirits to their Aid.
When Dangers over, they upo' the Bank;
Ardella, not till then, did quite her Plank
“Polyndus says, Ardella, O my Jewel,
“When in such Danger, why was you so cruel?
“When in such Danger, why was you so cruel?
Ardella blushing, gave a soft Reply,
“Polyndus, I believ'd we both would dy:
“Instinct doth teach us to prolong our Days,
“'Tis Nature's Law, and every one obeys.
“I us'd the Means, for you and I both know,
“That Thing would never to the Bottom go.
“Polyndus, I believ'd we both would dy:
“Instinct doth teach us to prolong our Days,
“'Tis Nature's Law, and every one obeys.
“I us'd the Means, for you and I both know,
“That Thing would never to the Bottom go.
| Streams from Helicon | |