 | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison |  |
89
TO A Lady at King's-College Chapel, Cambridge.
Unskill'd in Love, unpractis'd in those Arts
Of gaining Mistresses, and giving Hearts,
Mix'd with the gazing Croud I hither come,
Nor dreamt Destruction near this sacred Dome;
Where holy Hymns, and solemn Songs of Praise,
A venerable Adoration raise;
But with Surprize, at once I hear and see
A speaking, and a silent Harmony:
Transporting Sounds! my fainting Senses rise,
Wing'd with the sweeter Musick of your Eyes:
Your Eyes, that speak a Form so bright, so fair,
You seem the Object of each fervent Prayer.
Our Souls the sweet Divinity adore—
Aspiring Vanity can hope no more—
Of gaining Mistresses, and giving Hearts,
Mix'd with the gazing Croud I hither come,
Nor dreamt Destruction near this sacred Dome;
Where holy Hymns, and solemn Songs of Praise,
A venerable Adoration raise;
But with Surprize, at once I hear and see
A speaking, and a silent Harmony:
Transporting Sounds! my fainting Senses rise,
Wing'd with the sweeter Musick of your Eyes:
Your Eyes, that speak a Form so bright, so fair,
You seem the Object of each fervent Prayer.
90
Aspiring Vanity can hope no more—
But ah! forbear, thou holy Fair, unknown,
Our Happiness to hazard by your own;
Can Heaven, impartial, to your Hopes comply,
And give you that, which you to all deny.
Mistaken Maid! you think you Blessings gain,
When 'tis your very Prayers create our Pain,
And save us, but to kill us, with Disdain.
Alas! I feel the fatal Poison run,
I gaze, I sigh, I love, and am undone—
Harmonious Charms, in vain, my Mind reprove,
They sympathize, and melt, with me, to Love:
Whilst, in soft Sounds, my Soul, transported, flew,
Mistook her Heav'n, but found a Heav'n in You.
Our Happiness to hazard by your own;
Can Heaven, impartial, to your Hopes comply,
And give you that, which you to all deny.
Mistaken Maid! you think you Blessings gain,
When 'tis your very Prayers create our Pain,
And save us, but to kill us, with Disdain.
Alas! I feel the fatal Poison run,
I gaze, I sigh, I love, and am undone—
Harmonious Charms, in vain, my Mind reprove,
They sympathize, and melt, with me, to Love:
Whilst, in soft Sounds, my Soul, transported, flew,
Mistook her Heav'n, but found a Heav'n in You.
| The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | |