Mirth and Metre consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun |
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COLIN; OR, HOPELESS LOVE.
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COLIN; OR, HOPELESS LOVE.
AN ECLOGUE.
The fresh'ning dew yet whiten'd o'er the blade,
Nor long the nightbird his retreat had made;
Oft wont, e'er dawn, to tread the silent green,
With wayward step, and with dejected mien,
His flock before him restless Colin drove,
And, deeply sighing, sung of hopeless love—
“Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
Nor long the nightbird his retreat had made;
Oft wont, e'er dawn, to tread the silent green,
With wayward step, and with dejected mien,
His flock before him restless Colin drove,
And, deeply sighing, sung of hopeless love—
“Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
Ere that sad hour, how blithely time danc'd by!
My mind unclouded, and my spirits high!
Whistling I went, as forth my flock I led,
Tun'd my soft pipe, or carrol'd as they fed;
And, when at eve I penn'd them in the fold,
Sought the gay green, where, mingling, young and old
Strike up the dance, and healthful sports pursue,
Till warn'd of parting by the thick'ning dew:
Then home I hied me; and, my heart at ease,
Light flew my slumbers as the summer breeze—
Ah, woe is me! ill fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
My mind unclouded, and my spirits high!
Whistling I went, as forth my flock I led,
Tun'd my soft pipe, or carrol'd as they fed;
And, when at eve I penn'd them in the fold,
Sought the gay green, where, mingling, young and old
Strike up the dance, and healthful sports pursue,
Till warn'd of parting by the thick'ning dew:
Then home I hied me; and, my heart at ease,
Light flew my slumbers as the summer breeze—
Ah, woe is me! ill fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
Now, when by grief tir'd out, my eyes I close,
My active mind still robs me of repose:
Cold Anna's form officious dreams display;
Again I woo, again she turns away!
“Ah, stay!” I cry—she triumphs in my grief:
Anguish awakes me—but to no relief;
For though unreal the sad scene I find,
True is the woe, and rooted in my mind.
Thus sleep I dread, but only wake to weep,
Exclaim at Fate, and chide the hours that creep;
Of rest impatient, ere the ling'ring dawn,
Flee my loath'd bed, and seek the vacant lawn;
While my flock's plaintive bleat, and dog's shrill bark,
Wind o'er the hills, and wake the early lark.
Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
My active mind still robs me of repose:
Cold Anna's form officious dreams display;
Again I woo, again she turns away!
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Anguish awakes me—but to no relief;
For though unreal the sad scene I find,
True is the woe, and rooted in my mind.
Thus sleep I dread, but only wake to weep,
Exclaim at Fate, and chide the hours that creep;
Of rest impatient, ere the ling'ring dawn,
Flee my loath'd bed, and seek the vacant lawn;
While my flock's plaintive bleat, and dog's shrill bark,
Wind o'er the hills, and wake the early lark.
Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
Fair were my flocks, bear witness every swain,
At once the pride, and envy, of the plain;
No more the envy of the plain they move—
Ill fare the flock whose shepherd pines with love!
Snow white, and smooth, their fleeces once appear'd;
Now torn by brambles, and with ooze besmear'd;
For half the day, of them regardless, I,
Wrapt in delusive thought, supinely lie;
At random, then, they wander as they please,
While prowling robbers many a victim seize;
And, ere three months have seen my soul thus cross'd,
Three fruitless ewes, and nine young lambs, I've lost.
Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
At once the pride, and envy, of the plain;
No more the envy of the plain they move—
Ill fare the flock whose shepherd pines with love!
Snow white, and smooth, their fleeces once appear'd;
Now torn by brambles, and with ooze besmear'd;
For half the day, of them regardless, I,
Wrapt in delusive thought, supinely lie;
At random, then, they wander as they please,
While prowling robbers many a victim seize;
And, ere three months have seen my soul thus cross'd,
Three fruitless ewes, and nine young lambs, I've lost.
Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!
Of all the passions which the mind e'er nurs'd,
Love most deludes us, and torments the worst:
But shall a face my ev'ry bliss destroy?
Must I be wretched, because Anna's coy?
As lovely nymphs, and far more kind, remain;
Then why, for her, thus waste my soul in vain?
Enough, disdainful beauty! have I borne
Of cold caprice, and agonizing scorn;
I'll bear no more!—Ah! oft that vow I make,
One glance from thee that boastful vow can break!
Ye swains, by love yet unsubdu'd, beware,
Nor madly trifle with the gilded snare:
If caught, no art your freedom can restore,
For ev'ry struggle but enthrals you more!
All other ills some peaceful respite find,
But hopeless love for ever racks the mind!
Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!”
Love most deludes us, and torments the worst:
But shall a face my ev'ry bliss destroy?
Must I be wretched, because Anna's coy?
As lovely nymphs, and far more kind, remain;
Then why, for her, thus waste my soul in vain?
Enough, disdainful beauty! have I borne
Of cold caprice, and agonizing scorn;
I'll bear no more!—Ah! oft that vow I make,
One glance from thee that boastful vow can break!
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Nor madly trifle with the gilded snare:
If caught, no art your freedom can restore,
For ev'ry struggle but enthrals you more!
All other ills some peaceful respite find,
But hopeless love for ever racks the mind!
Ah, woe is me! ill-fated was the day
When love first led my heedless heart astray!”
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