Poems Upon Several Occasions By Benj. Hawkshaw |
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On a beautiful Lady who was going to
kill herself, when she was at
Supper, had she not been accidentally
prevented by one of the Company.
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 | Poems Upon Several Occasions |  |
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On a beautiful Lady who was going to kill herself, when she was at Supper, had she not been accidentally prevented by one of the Company.
I.
O stop that Hand! kind Heav'ns forbid the Blow!See the Stars lurk behind the Screen of Night
Unwilling to behold so sad a Sight,
Lest we should tax them t'have been guilty too.
No Comets in the Firmament,
By bodeing Symptoms to thy Death consent,
All is serene and gay,
And can that Beauty, which out shines the Milky Way,
Add a dark Blemish to the Day?
What cruel Passion boil'd within thy Veins?
What Legion harbour'd in thy Breast,
That dispossess'd thy Soul of Rest,
And put thee to Hyperboles of Pains,
That thou shouldst vent such Accents of Despair?
Void of all pious Fear,
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Resolv'd to baulk Death in so rich a Prey,
And make a quicker Passage for thy Soul away.
II.
For thy approaching GriefA speaking Sadness sat in ev'ry Eye,
All strove to give Relief,
As if they fear'd some Storm was nigh:
Thy very Eyes their coming Fate confest,
And their Resentment for thy Fall exprest.
Thy Soul retir'd to her inmost Room,
Dreading the Pressure of the Stroke to come:
But see, Heav'ns peculiar Care
Saves and protects the Fair;
And often is at the Expence
Of Miracles, to save such Excellence:
So many Thoughts great Jove it cost
To make a Piece most exquisitely Fine,
He would not have the Copy lost
By Death's unruly Hands; much less by thine.
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III.
Was Love the Cause of this?Forbid it all ye Powers above,
No Lover yet despis'd his Bliss,
So as to jilt the Monarchy of Love.
No Youth by thee could ever yet pass by,
But still thou hadst the Tribute of his Eye:
Thou'st Charms enough to set the World on Fire,
And in the coolest Stoick raise Desire:
So dear no Monarch ever priz'd a Crown,
But to procure your Life would lose his own:
What Passion then could blow that Flame,
To vent your Anger on the noblest Frame?
Perhaps too cruel you have been
To some more Amorous Swain,
Who now lyes Sighing, Gasping, Dying,
Because you will not ease his Pain;
And having now receiv'd the utmost Blow,
You'd fain embrace him in the Shades below.
| Poems Upon Several Occasions | |