On his falling in love with Nexta.

AREWELL that liberty our fathers gave,

law Neæra, and her inftant flave,
Though born a Briton, hugg'd the fervile chain.
Her ufage well repays my coward heart,
Meanly the triumphs in her lover's fname,
No healing joy relieves his conftant smart,
No fmile of love rewards the lofs of fame.

Oh, that to feel thefe killing pangs no more,
On Scythian hills I lay a fenfeless stone,
Was fix'd a rock amidst the watery roar,
And in the vast Atlantic stood alone.

Adieu, ye Mufes, or my paffion aid,
Why should I loiter by your idle spring?
My humble voice would move one only maid,
And the contemns the trifles which I fing.

I do not ask the lofty Epic ftrain,
Nor strive to paint the wonders of the sphere;
I only fing one cruel maid to gain,
Adieu, ye Mufes, if fhe will not hear.

No more in useless inpocence I'il pine,
Since guilty prefents win the greedy fair,
I'll tear its honours from the broken fhrine,
But chiefly thine, O Venus! will I tear.
Deceiv'd by thee, I lov'd a beauteous maid,
Who bends on fordid gold her low defires:
Nor worth nor paflion can her heart persuade,
But Love must act what Avarice requires.
Unwife who first, the charm of nature loft,
With Tyrian purple foil'd the fnowy sheep;
Unwifer ftill who feas and mountains croft,
To dig the rock, and search the pearly deep;

Thefe coftly toys our filly fair'furprise,
The fhining follies cheat their feeble fight,
Their hearts fecure in trifles, love defpife,
'Tis vain to court them, but more vain to write.

Why did the gods conceal the little mind,
And earthly thoughts beneath a heavenly face;
Forget the worth that dignifies mankind,
Yet fmooth and polish fo each outward grace?
Hence all the blame that Love and Venus bear,
Hence pleasure short, and anguish ever long,
Hence tears and fighs, and hence the peevish fair,
The froward lover-hence this angry fong.

ELEGY II.

Unable to fatisfy the covetous Temper of Neæra, he intends to make a Campaign, and try, if poffible, to forget her.

A'

DIEU, ye walls, that guard my cruel fair,
No more I'll fit in rofy fetters bound,
My limbs have learnt the weight of arms to bear,
My roufing fpirits feel the trumpet's found,
Few are the maids that now on merit fmile,
On fpoil and war is bent this iron age:
Yet pain and death attend on war and spoil,
Unfated vengeance and remorfeless rage.
To purchafe fpoil, even love itself is fold,
Her lover's heart is leaft Nera's care,
And I through war muft feek detefted gold,
Not for myfelf, but for my venal fair:

That while the bends beneath the weight of dress,
The stiffen'd robe may spoil her easy mien;
And art mistaken make her beauty lefs,
While still it hides fome graces better seen.
But if fuch toys can win her lovely smile,
Hers be the wealth of Tagus' golden fand,
Hers the bright gems that glow in India's foil,
Hers the black fons of Afric's fultry laud.
To please her eye let every loom contend,
For her be rifled Ocean's pearly bed.
But where, alas! would idle fancy tend,
And footh with dreams a youthful poet's head?
Let others buy the cold unloving maid,
In forc'd embraces act the tyrant's part,
While I their felfish luxury upbraid,

And scorn the perfon where I doubt the heart.
Thus warm'd by pride, I think I love no more,
And hide in threats the weakness of my mind;
In vain, though Reafon fly the hated door,
Yet Love, the coward Love, still lags behind,

May all the youths, like me, by love deceiv'd,
Not quench the ruin, but applaud the doom;
And, when thon dy'ft, may not one heart be
griev'd,

May not one tear bedew the lonely tomb..
But the deferving, tender, generous maid,
Whofe only care is her poor lover's mind,
Though ru hlefs age may bid her beauty fade,
In every friend to love, a friend fhall find:
And, when the lamp of life will burn no more,
When dead the feems as in a gentle fleep,
The pitying neighbour fhall her lofs deplore,
And round the bier affembled lovers weep:
With flowery garlands ea h revolving year,
Shall ftrew the grave where love and loftnefs reft,
Then home retiring, drop the pious tear,
And bid the turf lie cafy on her breast.

ELEGY IV.

To his Friend, written under the confinement of a long Indifpofition.

HILE calm you fit beneath your facred fhade,

WHILE

And lofe in pleafing thought the fummer-day, Or tempt the wifh of fome unpractis'd maid, Whose heart at once inclines and fears to tray: The fprightly vigour of my youth is fled, Lonely and fick, on death is all my thought, Oh, fpare, Perfephone, this guiltless head, Love, too much love, is all thy fuppliant's fault. No virgin's eafy faith I e'er betray'd, My tongue ne'er boafted of a feign'd embrace; No poifons in the cup have I convey'd, Nor veil'd deftruction with a friendly face: No fecret horrors gnaw this quiet breast, This pious hand ne'er robb d the facred fane, I ne'er difturb'd the gods' eternal reft With curics loud, but oft have pray'd in vain. No ftealth of time has thinn'd my flowing hair, Nor age yet bent me with his iron hand Ah! why fo foon the tender bloffom tear! Ere autumn yet the ripen'd fruit demand? Ye gods, whoe'er in gloomy fhades below, Now flowly tread your melancholy round; Now wandering view the paleful rivers flow, And musing hearken to their folemn found; Oh, let me ftill enjoy th' chearful day, Till, many years unheeded o'er me roll'd, Pleas'd in my age, I trifle life away, And tell how much we lov'd, ere I grew old... But you, who now, with festive garlands crown'd, In chace of pleasure the gay moments spend, By quick enjoyment heal love's pleafing wound, abfent friend. And grieve for nothing but

your

ELEGY V.

The Lover is at first introduced speaking to his Servant, he afterwards addreffes himself to his Mifrefs, and at laft there is a fuppofed Interview between them.

WITH wine, more wine, deceive thy mafter's

care,

Till creeping flumber footh his troubled breaft,
Let not a whifper ftir the filent air,
If hapless love a while content to rest.
Untoward guards befet my Cyrthia's doors,
And cruel locks th' in prifon'd fair conceal,
May lightnings biaft whom love in vain implores,
And Jove's own thunder rive thofe bolts of feel
Ah, gentle door, attend my humble call,
Nor let thy founding hinge our thefts betray,
So all my curfes far from thee fhall fall,
We angry lovers mean not half we say.
Remember now the flowery wreaths I gave,
When first I told thee of my bold defires,
Nor thou, O Cynthia, fear the watchful flave,
Venus will favour what herfelf infpires.

She guides the youth who fee not where they tread,
She fhews the virgin how to turn the door,
Softly to teal from off her filent bed,
And not a step betray her on the floor.
The fearle's lover wants no beam of light,
The robber knows him, nor obftructs his way,
Sacred he wanders through the pathiefs night,
Belongs to Venus, and can never stray.

I forn the chilling wind and beating rain,
Nor heed cold watchings on the dewy grund,
If all the hardships I for love fuftain,
With love's victorious joys at lait be crown'd:
With fudden step let none our blifs furp ize,
Or check the freedom of fecure delight-
Raih man beware, and thut thy curious eyes,
Left angry Venus fnatch their guilty fight.
But fhould't thou fee, th' important fecret hids,
Though question'd by the powers of earth a
heaven.

The prating tongue fhall love's revenge abide,
Still fue for grace, and never be forgiven.
A wizard-dame, the lover's ancient friend,
With magic charm has deaft thy husband's car,
At her command I faw the stars defcend,
And winged lightnings ftop in mid carcer.
I faw her ftamp, and cleave the folid ground,
While ghafly ipectres round us wildly roam;
I faw them hearken to her potent found,
Till, far'd at day, they fought their dreary home
At her command the vigorous fummer pines,
And wintery clouds obfcure the hopeful year;
At her frong bidding, gloomy winter fhines,
And vernal refes on the fnows appear.

She gave thefe charms, which I on thee bestow,
They dim the eye, and dull the jealous mind,
For me they make a husband nothing know,
For me, and only me, they make him blind:

But

But what did most this faithful heart furprize,
She boasted that her skill could fet it free;
This faithful heart the boafted freedom flies;
How could it venture to abandon thee?.

ELEGY VI.

He adjures Delia to pity him, by their Friendship with Calia, who was lately dead.

THOUSANDS

And in that harbour fhun the storm of care,
Officious hope ftill holds the fleeting breath,
She tells them till,-To-morrow will be fair.
She tells them, Delia, I fhall thee obtain,
But can I listen to her fyren fong,

Who feven flow months have dragg'd my painful chain,

Solong thy lover, and defpis'd fo long?
By all the joys thy deareft Calia gave,
Let not her once-lov'd friend unpitied burn;
So may her ashes find a peaceful grave,
And fleep uninjur'd in their facred urn.
To her firft avow'd my timorous flame,
She nurs'd my hopes, and taught me how to fue,
She ftill would pity what the wife might blame,
And feel for weaknefs which the never knew :
Ah, do not grieve the dear lamented shade,
That hovering round us all my fufferings hears,
She is my faint,-to her my prayers are made,
With oft repeated gifts of flowers and tears:
To her fad tomb at midnight I retire,
And lonely fitting by the filent flone,
I tell it all the griefs my wrongs infpire,
The marble image feems to hear my moan:
Thy friend's pale ghoft hall vex thy fleeplefs bed,
And stand before thee all in virgin white;
That ruthless bolom will difturb the dead,
And call forth pity from eternal night:
Cease, cruel man, the mournful theme forbear,
Though much thou fuffer, to thyfelf complain :
Ah, to recal the fad remembrance spare,
One tear from her, is more than all my pain.

Where are his triumphs? where his warlike toil?
Where by his darts the crefted Pithon flain?
Where are his Delphi? his delightful ille?
The God himself is grown a cottage fwain.
O, Ceres! in your golden fields no more,
With Harveft's chearful pomp my fair detain,-
Think what for loft Proferpina you bore,
And in a mother's anguifh feel my pain.
Our wifer fathers left their fields unfown,
Their food was acorns, love their fole employ,
They met, they lik'd, they ftaid but till alone,
And in each valley fnatch'd the honeft joy.
No wakeful guard, no doors to stop defire.
Thrice happy times!-But, oh I fondly rave,
Lead me to Delia, all her eyes infpire
Ill do. I'll plough, or dig as Delia's flave.

ELEGY VIII.

He defpairs that he fhall ever poffefs Delia.

AH, what avails thy lover's pious care?

His lavish incenfe clouds the fky in vain, Nor wealth nor greatnefs was his idle prayer, For thee alone he pray'd, thee hop'd to gain : With thee I hop'd to waste the pleafing day, ill in thy arms an age of joy was past, Then, old with love, infenfibly decay," And on thy bofom gently breathe my last. I fcorn the Lydian river's golden wave, And all the vulgar charins of human life, I only ask to live my Delia's Cave,

And, when I long have ferv'd her, call her wife :

I only afk, of her I love poffeft,
To fink, o'ercome with blifs, in fafe repofe,
To ftrain her yielding beauties to my breast,
And kifs her wearied eye-lids till they clofe.
Attend, gay Venus, parent of delire;
Attend, O Juno! with thy fober ear,
This one fond with, if you refufe to hear,

Oh, let me with this figh of love expire.

What I demand. perhaps her heart defires,
But virgin fears her nicer tongue reftrain:
The fecret thought, which blufhing love infpires,
The confcious eye can full as well explain.

ELEGY XI.

Against Lovers going to War, in which he philofophically prefers Love and Delia to the more ferious Vanities of the Word.

Where is the face that fed my longing eyes? Where is the shape that might have bleft my arms? Where are thole hopes relentless Fate denies? When spent with endless grief I die at last, Lelia may come, and fee my poor remains,Oh, Delia! after fuch an abfence past, Canft thou ftill love, and not forget my pains? Wilt thou in tears thy lover's corse attend, With eyes averted light the folemn pyre, Till all around the dolefui flames afcend, Then, flowly finking, by degrees expire? To footh the hovering foul, be thine the care, With plaintive cries to lead the mournful band, In fable weeds the golden vafe to bear, And cull my afhes with thy trembling hand! Panchaia's odours be their coftly feast, And all the pride of Afi's fragrant year; Give them the treafures of the farthest Faft, And, what is still more precious, give thy tear. Dying for thee, there is in death a pride, Let all the world thy hapless lover know, No filent urn the noble paffion hide,

But deeply graven thus my fufferings fhow:

Here lies a youth, borne down with love and care,
He could not long his Delia's lof- abide,
Joy left his bolom with the parting fair,
And when he durft no longer hope, he dy'd."

ELEGY X.

On Delia's Birth-day.

THIS day, which faw my Delia's beauty life,

Shall more than all our facred days be blest, The world enamour'd of her lovely eyes, Shall grow as good and gentle as her breast. By all our guarded fighs, and hid defires, Oh, may our guiltless love be fill the fame! burn, and glory in the leafing fires, If Delia's beauty fhare the mutual flame. Thou happy genius of her natal hour, Accept her incenfe, if her thoughts be kind; But let her court in vain thy angry power, If all our vows tre blotted from her mind. And thou, O Venus, hear my righteous prayer, Or bind the fhepherdefs, or loofe the fwain, Yet rather guard them oth with equal care, And let them die together in thy chain :

How fell and deadly was his iron heart,
He gave the wound encountering nations feel,
And death grew ftr nger by his fatal art:
Yet not from steel debate and battle rofe,
'Tis gold o'erturns the even fcale of life,
Nature is free to all, and none were foes,
Till partial luxury began the ftrife.

Let spoil and victory adorn the bold,
While inglorious neither hope nor fear,
Perish the thirst of honour, thirst of gold,
Ere for my abfence Delia lose a tear :
Why should the lover quit his pleasing home,
In fearch of danger on fome foreign ground;
Far from his weeping fair ungrateful roam,
And risk in every ftroke a double wound?
Ah, better far, beneath the spreading shade,
With chearful friends to drain the fprightly bowl,
To fing the beauties of my darling maid,
And on the fwect idea feaft my foul:
Then full of love to all her charms retire,
And fold her blufhing to my eager breast,
Till, quite o'ercome with foftnefs, with defire,
Like me the pants, the faints, and finks to rest.

N

ELEGY XII. To Delia.

70 fecond love fhall e'er my heart surprize,
This folemn league did fire: our paffion bing
Thou, only thou, canft pleafe thy lover's eyes,
Thy voice alone can footh his troubled mind.
Oh, that thy charms were only fair to me,
Difpleafe all others, and fecure my rest,
No need of envy,-let me happy be,
i little care that oth rs know me best.
With thee in gloomy deferts let me dwe'l,
Where never human footstep mark'd the ground;
Thou, ight of life, a darknefs can expei,
And feem a world with fohtude around.

I fay too much-my heed efs words restore,
My tongue undoes me in this loving hour;
Thou know't thy ftrength, and thence insulting

more,

Will make me feel the weight of all thy power:
Whater Ifel thy flave I will remain,
Nor fly the burden I am form'd co`ear,
In chains ! fit me down at Venus fane
She knows my wrongs, and will regard my prayer.
ELEGY

ELEGY XIII.

He imagines himself married to Delia, and that content with each other, they are retired into the Country.

L

crown'd,

ET others boaft their heaps of fhining gold,
And view their fields, with waving plenty
Whom neighbouring foes in conftant terror bold,
And trumpets break their flumbers, never found:
While calmly poor 1 trifle life away,
Enjoy sweet leifure by my
chearful fire,
Ao wanton hopes my quiet fhall betray,
But, cheaply bleft, I'll fcorn each vain defire.
With timely care I'll fow my little field,
And plant my orchard with its master's hand,
Nor blufh to spread the hay, the hook to wield,
Orrange my fheaves along the funny land.
If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam,
I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lanib,
Under my arm I'll bring the wanderer home,
And not a little chide its thoughtless dam.
What joy to hear the tempeft howl in vain,
And clafp a fearful miftress to my breast?
Or, lull'd to flumber by the beating rain,
Secure and happy, fink at last to rest?
Or, if the fun in flaming Leo ride,
By fhady rivers indolently stray,
And with my Delia, walking fide by fide,
Hear how they murmur, as they glide away?
What joy to wind along the cool retreat,
To ftop, and gaze on Delia as I go?
To mingle fweet difcourfe with kiffes fweet,
And teach my lovely scholar all I know?

Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with fancy's dream,
In filent happiness I reft unknown;
Content with what I ara, not what I feem,
I live for Delia and myself alone.

Ah, foolish man, who thus of her possest,
Could float and wander with ambition's wind,
And if his outward trappings spoke him bleft,
Nor heed the fickness of his confcious mind!
With her I fcorn the idle breath of praise,
Nor truft to happiness that's not our own:
The fmile of fortune migh: fufpicion raife,
But here I know that I am lov'd alone.
Stanhope, in wifdom as in wit divine,
May rife, and plead Britannia' glorious caufe,
With steady rein his eager wit confine,
While manly fenfe the deep attention draws.
Let Stanhope fpeak his liftening country's wrongs,
My humble voice fhall please one partial maid;
For her alene 1 pen my tender fong,
Securely fitting in his friendly flade.
Stanhope fhall come, and grace his rural friend,
Delia fhall wonder at her noble queft,
With blushing awe the riper fruit commend,
And for her husband's patron culi the best.
Hers be the care of all my little train,
While I with tender indolence am bleft,
The favourite fubject of her gentle reign,
By love alone diftinguifh'd from the ref

For her I'll yoke my oxen to the plough,
In gloomy forefts tend my lonely flock;
For her a goat-herd climb the mountain's brow,
And fleep extended on the naked rock:
Ah, what avails to prefs the stately bed,
And far from her 'midft taftelefs grandeur weep,
By marble fountains lay the pensive head,
And, while they murmur, ftrive in vain to sleep?
Delia alone can please, and never tire,
Exceed the paint of thought in true delight,
With her, enjoyment wakens new defire,
And equal rapture glows through every night:
Beauty and worth in her alike contend,
To charm the fancy, and to fix the mind;
In her my wife, my miftrefs, and my friend,
I taste the joys of fenfe and reason join'd.
On her I'll gaze, when others loves are o'er,
And dying prefs her with my clay-cold hand,-
Thou weep'ft already, as I were no more,
Nor can that gentle breaft the thought withstand.
Oh, when I die, my latest moments fpare,
Nor let thy grief with fharper torments kill,
Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair,
Though I am dead, my foul shall love thee ftill.
Oh, quit the room, oh, quit the deathful bed,
Or thou wilt die, fo tender is thy heart;
Oh, leave me, De'ia, ere thou fee me dead,
Thefe weeping friends will do thy mournful part:
Let them, extended on the decent hier,
Convey the corfe in melancholy state,
Through all the vlage fpread the tender tear,
While pitying maids our wonderous loves relate:

ELEGY XIV.

To Delia.

HATfcenes of bliss my raptur'dfancy fram'd,

Though reafon then my fanguine fondness blam'd,
I ftill believ d what flattering love infpir'd :
But now my wrongshave taught my humbledmind,
To dangerous blifs no longer to pretend,
In books a calm, but fix'd content to find,
Safe joys, that on ourselves alone depend:
With them the gentle moments I beguile,
In learned eafe, and el gant delight,
Compare the beauties of each different ftile,
Each various ray of wit's diffufive light:
Now mark the strength of Milton's facred lines,
Senfe rais'd by genius, fancy rul'd by art,
Where all the glory of the Godhead fhines,
And earliest innocence enchants the heart.
Now, fir'd by Pope and Virtue, leave the age
In low pursuit of felf-undoing wrong,
And race the author through his moral page,
Whose blameless life ftill anfwers to his fong.
If time and books my lingering pain can heal,
And reafon fix its empire e'er my heart,
My patriot breaft a noble warmth fhall feel,
And glow with love, where weakness has no part.
Thy heart, Lyttleton, fhall be my guide,
Its fire fhall warm me, and its worth improve;
Thy heart, above all envy, and all pride,
Firm as man's fenfe, and foft as woman love.
R 2

And