 | The poems of Dr. Yalden |  |
TO HIS FRIEND CAPTAIN CHAMBERLAIN,
IN LOVE WITH A LADY HE HAD TAKEN IN AN AL[illeg.]RINE PRIZE AT SEA.
'Tis no disgrace, brave youth, to own
By a fair slave you are undone:
Why dost thou blush to hear that name,
And stifle thus a generous flame?
Did not the fair Brisëis heretofore
With powerful charms subdue?
What though a captive, still she bore
Those eyes that freedom could restore,
And make her haughty lord the proud Achilles, bow.
By a fair slave you are undone:
Why dost thou blush to hear that name,
And stifle thus a generous flame?
Did not the fair Brisëis heretofore
With powerful charms subdue?
What though a captive, still she bore
Those eyes that freedom could restore,
And make her haughty lord the proud Achilles, bow.
Stern Ajax, though renown'd in arms,
Did yield to bright Tecmessa's charms:
And all the laurels he had won
As trophies at her feet were thrown.
When, beautiful in tears, he view'd the mourning fair,
The hero felt her power:
Though great in camps and fierce in war,
Her softer looks he could not bear,
Proud to become her slave, though late her conqueror.
Did yield to bright Tecmessa's charms:
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As trophies at her feet were thrown.
When, beautiful in tears, he view'd the mourning fair,
The hero felt her power:
Though great in camps and fierce in war,
Her softer looks he could not bear,
Proud to become her slave, though late her conqueror.
When beauty in distress appears,
An irresistless charm it bears:
In every breast does pity move,
Pity, the tenderest part of love.
Amidst his triumphs great Atrides sued,
Unto a weeping maid:
Though Troy was by his arms subdued,
And Greece the bloody trophies view'd,
Yet at a captive's feet th' imploring victor laid.
An irresistless charm it bears:
In every breast does pity move,
Pity, the tenderest part of love.
Amidst his triumphs great Atrides sued,
Unto a weeping maid:
Though Troy was by his arms subdued,
And Greece the bloody trophies view'd,
Yet at a captive's feet th' imploring victor laid.
Think not thy charming maid can be
Of a base stock, and mean degree;
Her shape, her air, her every grace,
A more than vulgar birth confess:
Yes, yes, my friend, with royal blood she's great,
Sprung from some monarch's bed;
Now mourns her family's hard fate,
Her mighty fall and abject state,
And her illustrious race conceals with noble pride.
Of a base stock, and mean degree;
Her shape, her air, her every grace,
A more than vulgar birth confess:
Yes, yes, my friend, with royal blood she's great,
Sprung from some monarch's bed;
Now mourns her family's hard fate,
Her mighty fall and abject state,
And her illustrious race conceals with noble pride.
Ah, think not an ignoble house
Could such a heroine produce;
Nor think such generous sprightly blood
Could flow from the corrupted crowd;
But view her courage, her undaunted mind,
And soul with virtues crown'd;
Where dazzling interest cannot blind,
Nor youth nor gold admittance find,
But still her honour's fix'd, and virtue keeps its ground.
View well her great majestic air,
And modest looks divinely fair;
Too bright for fancy to improve,
And worthy of thy noblest love.
But yet suspect not thy officious friend,
All jealous thoughts remove;
Though I with youthful heat commend,
For thee I all my wishes send,
And if she makes thee blest, 'tis all I ask of Love!
Could such a heroine produce;
Nor think such generous sprightly blood
Could flow from the corrupted crowd;
But view her courage, her undaunted mind,
And soul with virtues crown'd;
Where dazzling interest cannot blind,
Nor youth nor gold admittance find,
But still her honour's fix'd, and virtue keeps its ground.
View well her great majestic air,
And modest looks divinely fair;
Too bright for fancy to improve,
And worthy of thy noblest love.
But yet suspect not thy officious friend,
All jealous thoughts remove;
Though I with youthful heat commend,
For thee I all my wishes send,
And if she makes thee blest, 'tis all I ask of Love!
| The poems of Dr. Yalden | |