 | The loves of hero and leander |  |
From Moschus.
Idyllium I.
Love, from his mother-goddess gone astray;
Thus loud she cry'd her wanton run-a-way.
‘Who shall conduct me to the vagrant boy;
‘A kiss shall have, replete of heav'nly joy.
‘Who to my arms the vagrant shall restore,
‘Shall have as sweet a kiss, and something more—
‘You can't mistake him once his marks are shown,
‘This boy, among a thousand, may be known.
‘Not white his body, but resembling fire:
‘And his eyes ever-flaming with desire.
‘At constant variance are his tongue and mind:
‘His thoughts deceitful, as his speech is kind.
‘Words sweet as honey, from his lips distil,
‘His guileful heart the better to conceal;
‘Where cruel malice lurks in fair disguise.
‘Spightful as treach'rous! full of wiles as lyes!
‘Soft-curly locks his wanton forehead grace;
‘And add uncommon archness to his face.
‘His hands, tho' small, far, wond'rous far, can throw;
‘Far! as th'infernal king that rules below!
‘A little bow, and little dart he bears;
‘Little! yet large enough to pierce the spheres!
‘A golden quiver on his shoulder sounds:
‘And full of shafts, with which ev'n me he wounds!
‘No shaft but is most fatal; no, not one!
‘But most his torch; that fires the very sun.
‘Of body naked! fraudulent of mind!
‘Swift as a bird, and faithless as the wind!
‘Now here, now there, he takes his nimble flights,
‘To nymphs or swains; and on their hearts alights.
Thus loud she cry'd her wanton run-a-way.
‘Who shall conduct me to the vagrant boy;
‘A kiss shall have, replete of heav'nly joy.
‘Who to my arms the vagrant shall restore,
‘Shall have as sweet a kiss, and something more—
‘You can't mistake him once his marks are shown,
‘This boy, among a thousand, may be known.
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‘And his eyes ever-flaming with desire.
‘At constant variance are his tongue and mind:
‘His thoughts deceitful, as his speech is kind.
‘Words sweet as honey, from his lips distil,
‘His guileful heart the better to conceal;
‘Where cruel malice lurks in fair disguise.
‘Spightful as treach'rous! full of wiles as lyes!
‘Soft-curly locks his wanton forehead grace;
‘And add uncommon archness to his face.
‘His hands, tho' small, far, wond'rous far, can throw;
‘Far! as th'infernal king that rules below!
‘A little bow, and little dart he bears;
‘Little! yet large enough to pierce the spheres!
‘A golden quiver on his shoulder sounds:
‘And full of shafts, with which ev'n me he wounds!
‘No shaft but is most fatal; no, not one!
‘But most his torch; that fires the very sun.
‘Of body naked! fraudulent of mind!
‘Swift as a bird, and faithless as the wind!
‘Now here, now there, he takes his nimble flights,
‘To nymphs or swains; and on their hearts alights.
‘If this my run-a-way you chance to find;
‘Shew him no pity, but in fetters bind.
‘Nor tho' he feign to weep, or feign to smile;
‘Let this, or that, your easy faith beguile.
‘With kisses would he bribe, refuse them all;
‘The lips of love are fraught with venom'd gall.
‘Wou'd he resign his arms, ev'n those disclaim;
‘The gifts of love are ting'd with subtle flame.
‘Shew him no pity, but in fetters bind.
‘Nor tho' he feign to weep, or feign to smile;
‘Let this, or that, your easy faith beguile.
‘With kisses would he bribe, refuse them all;
‘The lips of love are fraught with venom'd gall.
‘Wou'd he resign his arms, ev'n those disclaim;
‘The gifts of love are ting'd with subtle flame.
| The loves of hero and leander | |