University of Virginia Library


74

ELEGY.

[The truest Love is still reserv'd and shy]

The truest Love is still reserv'd and shy,
No look of confidence or boldness wears,
Known by the humble brow, and soften'd eye,
And full of wavering doubts, and anxious fears.
When I perceiv'd that Thespia had o'ercome
My yielding heart, and fixt her empire there,
That from her hands I must receive my doom,
And all my future weal must flow from her:
What dreadful strugglings did I undergo
'Twixt native bashfulness and strong desire!
How did my senses fluctuate to and fro,
'Twixt soft respectful Love, and Passion's fire!
Oft did I wish the secret to have told,
But awe and modest dread too much prevail'd;
Her presence all my faculties controul'd,
And every settled resolution fail'd.
At length with firm intent I sought the Fair,
With firm intent to pour out all my heart,
To let her know the story of my care,
And the long misery of consuming smart.

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Her steps I to a secret garden drew,
She without guile, went innocently free,
No ill suspecting, for no ill she knew,
Nor fear'd to trust herself alone with me.
At first to talk as usual I assay'd,
Hoping thereby to gain a tranquil air,
And as along the walk we slowly stray'd,
Pluck'd frequent flowers, and stuck them in her hair.
But still my shorten'd breath fast went and came,
O'er my embarrass'd limbs a stiffness hung,
My heart throbb'd strong, and shook my lab'ring frame,
And fears, I know not how, unnerv'd my tongue.
Resolv'd to speak, some secret power restrain'd;
Asham'd, and angry with myself I grew,
With crimson consciousness my cheeks were stain'd,
And quick again the conscious stains withdrew.
She whether unobservant all the while,
Or else my strange confusion to relieve,
Indifferently talk'd with careless smile,
But I to what she said no heed could give.
Then chang'd my fickle mind its first design,
Determin'd sudden on some future day,
Then would I each perplexity untwine,
And every ardent wish before her lay.

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A transient calm succeeded in my breast;
Yet sure, thought I, I have not so conceal'd,
But she th'emotions of my soul has guess'd;
Perhaps she wishes too they were reveal'd.
Though now my faultering tongue its aid denies,
She must have read the language of my soul,
Nor have I mark'd displeasure in her eyes,
When forth from mine the glance of Love has stole.
Then turning round in haste, as if afraid
Lest Diffidence again might intervene,
Not daring to erect my timid head,
My hesitating lips disclos'd my pain.