Poems upon several occasions with a voyage to the Island of Love. By Mrs A. Behn |
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On Mr. J. H. In a Fit of Sickness.
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 | Poems upon several occasions |  |
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On Mr. J. H. In a Fit of Sickness.
I.
If when the God of Day retires,The Pride of all the Spring decays and dies:
Wanting those Life-begetting Fires
From whence they draw their Excellencies;
Each little Flower hangs down its Gawdy Head,
Losing the Luster which it did Retain;
No longer will its fragrant face be spread,
But Languishes into a Bud again:
So with the Sighing Crowd it fares
Since you Amyntas, have your Eies withdrawn,
Ours Lose themselves in Silent Tears,
Our days are Melancholy Dawn;
The Groves are Unfrequented now,
The Shady Walks are all Forlorn;
Who still were throng to gaze on you:
With Nymphs, whom your Retirement has undone.
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II.
Our Bag-pipes now away are flung,Our Flocks a Wandering go;
Garlands neglected, on the Boughs are hung,
That us'd to adorn each Chearful Brow,
Forsaken looks the enameld May:
And all its wealth Uncourted dies;
Each little Bird forgets its wonted Lay,
That Sung Good Morrow to the welcome Day.
Or rather to thy Lovely Eies.
The Cooling Streams do backward glide:
Since on their Banks they saw not thee,
Losing the Order of their Tide,
And Murmuring chide thy Cruelty;
Then hast to lose themselves i'th' Angry Sea.
III.
Thus every thing in its Degree,Thy said Retreat Deplore;
Hast then Amyntas, and Restore;
The whole Worlds Loss in thee.
For like an Eastern Monarch, when you go,
(If such a Fate the World must know)
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Of Love-sick Maids, will wait upon thy Ghost;
And Death that Secret will Reveal,
Which Pride and Shame did here Conceal;
Live then thou Lovelyest of the Plaines,
Thou Beauty of the Envying Swaines;
Whose Charms even Death it self wou'd court,
And of his Solemn Business make a Sport.
IV.
In Pitty to each Sighing Maid,Revive, come forth, be Gay and Glad;
Let the Young God of Love implore,
In Pity lend him Darts,
For when thy Charming Eies shall shoot no more;
He'll lose his Title of the God of Hearts.
In Pity to Astrea live,
Astrea, whom from all the Sighing Throng,
You did your oft-won Garlands give:
For which she paid you back in Grateful Song:
Astrea, who did still the Glory boast,
To be ador'd by thee, and to adore thee most.
V.
With Pride she saw her Rivals Sigh and Pine,And vainly cry'd, The lovely Youth is mine!
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By all the Joys thou canst receive, and give:
By each Recess and Shade where thou and I,
Loves Secrets did Unfold;
And did the dull Unloving World defy:
VVhilst each the Hearts fond Story told.
If all these Conjurations nought Prevail,
Not Prayers or Sighs, or Tears avail,
But Heaven has Destin'd we Depriv'd must be,
Of so much Youth, Wit, Beauty, and of Thee;
I will the Deaf and Angry Powers defie,
Curse thy Decease, Bless thee, and with thee die.
| Poems upon several occasions | |