The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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UPON HEARING HIS PICTURE WAS IN A LADY'S BREAST. |
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
UPON HEARING HIS PICTURE WAS IN A LADY'S BREAST.
Ye gods! was Strephon's picture blest
With the fair heaven of Chloe's breast?
Move softer, thou fond flutt'ring heart;
O gently throb—too fierce thou art.
Tell me, thou brightest of thy kind,
For Strephon was the bliss design'd?
For Strephon's sake, dear charming maid,
Didst thou prefer his wand'ring shade?
With the fair heaven of Chloe's breast?
Move softer, thou fond flutt'ring heart;
O gently throb—too fierce thou art.
Tell me, thou brightest of thy kind,
For Strephon was the bliss design'd?
For Strephon's sake, dear charming maid,
Didst thou prefer his wand'ring shade?
And thou, blest shade, that sweetly art
Lodged so near my Chloe's heart,
For me the tender hour improve,
And softly tell how dear I love.
Ungrateful thing! it scorns to hear
Its wretched master's ardent pray'r,
Engrossing all that beauteous heaven,
That Chloe, lavish maid, has given.
Lodged so near my Chloe's heart,
For me the tender hour improve,
And softly tell how dear I love.
Ungrateful thing! it scorns to hear
Its wretched master's ardent pray'r,
Engrossing all that beauteous heaven,
That Chloe, lavish maid, has given.
I cannot blame thee: were I lord
Of all the wealth those breasts afford,
I'd be a miser too, nor give
An alms to keep a god alive.
O smile not thus, my lovely fair,
On these cold looks, that lifeless air,
Prize him whose bosom glows with fire,
With eager love and soft desire.
Of all the wealth those breasts afford,
I'd be a miser too, nor give
An alms to keep a god alive.
O smile not thus, my lovely fair,
On these cold looks, that lifeless air,
Prize him whose bosom glows with fire,
With eager love and soft desire.
'Tis true thy charms, O powerful maid,
To life can bring the silent shade;
Thou canst surpass the painter's art,
And real warmth and flames impart.
But, oh! it ne'er can love like me—
I've ever lov'd, and lov'd but thee.
Then, charmer, grant my fond request,
Say thou canst love, and make me blest.
To life can bring the silent shade;
Thou canst surpass the painter's art,
And real warmth and flames impart.
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I've ever lov'd, and lov'd but thee.
Then, charmer, grant my fond request,
Say thou canst love, and make me blest.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |