Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Young scornful Daphne Damon lov'd with truth;
She bright in charms, and he a comely youth;
Ah, cruel nymph! no soft concession?—no!
'Tis mighty strange! but women will do so.
Dame Fortune, pitying, led the love-sick swain,
In pensive mood, along the flow'ry plain;
Then whisper'd, Cast thine eyes to yonder shade.—
He did; and saw reclin'd the blooming maid;
Urg'd by the goddess, boldly he advanc'd,
While in his breast his heart with rapture danc'd;
Smil'd on the fair, sat down, and snatch'd a kiss,
Then sung, in prelude to expected bliss.

AIR.

Too long has Daphne scorn'd a youth,
Whose gentle flame, and spotless truth,
Her bosom shou'd approve;
But now her eyes, that chear the day,
In beams of soft compliance play,
And love shall meet with love.

RECITATIVE.

Perhaps, the fair dissembler made reply,
Perhaps my scorn was Damon's heart to try;
But, shou'd our joys yon prying shepherds see,
How wou'd they talk of you, and laugh at me!
For one day more suspend your ardent love;
At twelve to-morrow, in the myrtle grove
Attend;—be patient, secret, and be blest;
Remember twelve;—let fancy paint the rest.

Brib'd by her words, on honour's strict parole,
The swain dismiss'd the partner of his soul.
All tedious pass'd the live-long night away;
At length the lark proclaim'd the new-born day,
When Damon 'rose; and sought th'appointed bow'r,
Invoking Sol to haste the noon-tide hour:
It came.—The clock struck one, two, three, four, five,
No Daphne came;—yet Daphne was alive:
Despair and rage the shepherd's mind divide;
Oh, cruel Fortune! cheating nymph! he cry'd.
Just had he spoke, when near, though unconfess'd,
The injur'd goddess thus the fool address'd:

AIR.

I

Fortune thou no more shalt see,
Hid in clouds, she speaks to thee!
Idle loit'rer! silly swain!
Why of me dost thou complain?

100

Late I led thee where thy art
Might have won the fair-one's heart;
Cold, or kind, thou didst not win it;—
Fool, to miss the lucky minute.

II

Didst thou credulous believe,
Daphne meant not to deceive?
Did thy heart not pant for bliss,
Animated by a kiss?
Vain thy future suit shall prove;
Woman should be press'd to love;
And she thinks the duce is in it,—
If you miss the lucky minute.