On his falling in love with Neæra.

FAREWELL that liberty our fathers gave,

F

In vain they gave, their fons receiv'd in vain : Ifaw Neæra, and her instant flave,

Though born a Briton, hugg'd the fervile chain.

Her ufage well repays my coward heart,
Meanly the triumphs in her lover's fhame,
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 fenfelefs ftone,
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 he will not hear.

No more in useless innocence I'll 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 desires:
Nor worth nor paffion can her heart perfuade,
But Love must act what Avarice requires.
Unwife who firft, 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 thining 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.

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 purchase fpoil, even love itfelf is fold,
Her lover's heart is leaft Neæra's care,'
And I through war muft feek detefted gold,
Not for myfelf, but for my venal fair:

That while fhe bends beneath the weight of dress
The stiffen'd robe may spoil her easy mien ;
And art mistaken make her beauty less,
While still it hides fome graces better seen.
But if fuch toys can win her lovely fmile,
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 land.
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 at the tyrant's part,
While I their felfish luxury upbraid,

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

May all the youths, like me, by love deceiv'd,
Not quench the ruin, but applaud the doom;
And, when thou 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 ruthlefs age may bid her beauty fade,
In every friend to love, a friend fall find:
And, when the lamp of life will burn no more,
When dead fhe 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 firew the grave where love and foftnefs reft,
Then home retiring, drop the pious tear,
And bid the turf lie eafy on her breast.

ELEGY IV.

ELEGY V.

The Lover is at first introduced speaking to his
Servant, he afterwards addreffes himself to his
Miftrefs, and at laft there is a fuppofed Inter-
view between them.

WITH wine, more wine, deceive thy master's

care,

Till creeping flumber footh his troubled breast,
Let not a whifper ftir the filent air,

If hapless love a while confent to reft.
Untoward guards befet my Cynthia's doors,
And cruel locks th' imprifon'd fair conceal,
May lightnings blast whom love in vain implores,
And Jove's own thunder rive thofe bolts of steel.
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 slave,
Venus will favour what herself inspires.

She guides the youth who see not where they tread,

To his Friend, written under the confinement of She thews the virgin how to turn the door,

a long Indifpofition.

And lofe in pleafing thought the fummer-day,
Or tempt the wish of fome unpractis'd maid,
Whose heart at once inclines and fears to itray:
The sprightly vigour of my youth is fled,
Lonely and fick, on death is all my thought,
Oh, spare, Persephone, this guiltless head,
Love, too much love, is all thy fuppliant's fault.
No virgin's easy faith I e'er betray'd,
My tongue ne'er boaked 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 curfes loud,—but oft have pray'd in vain.
No stealth 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 mufing 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 feftive garlands crown'd,
In chace of pleasure the gay moments spend,
By quick enjoyment heal love's plealing wound,
And grieve for nothing but your abfent friend.

Softly to steal from off her filent bed,
And not a ftep betray her on the floor.
The fearlets lover wants no beam of light,
The robber knows him, nor obstructs his way,
Sacred he wanders through the pathless night,
Belongs to Venus, and can never stray.

I forn the chilling wind and beating rain,
Nor heed cold watchings on the dewy ground,
If all the hardships I for love fuftain,
With love's victorious joys at laft be crown'd:
With fudden ftep let none our blifs furp ize,
Or check the freedom of fecure delight-
Rafh man heware, and thut thy curious eyes,
Left angry Venus fnatch their guilty fight.
But should't thou fee, th' important fecret hide,
Though queftion'd by the powers of earth an
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 hufband's ear,
At her command I faw the ftars defcend,
And winged lightnings ftop in mid carcer.
I faw her ftamp, and cleave the folid ground,
While ghaftly ipectres round us wildly roam;
I faw them hearken to her potent found,
Till, fear'd at day, they fought their dreary home.
At her command the vigorous fummer pines,
And wintery clouds obfcure the hopeful year;
At her ftrong bidding, gloomy winter fhines,
And vernal rofes 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 moft this faithful heart furprize,
She boafted 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 would feck the lafting peace of
HOUSANDS would feek the lafting peace of
death,

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

The fcorching heats I'd carelessly defpife,
Nor heed the blifters on my tender hand;
The great Apollo wore the fame difpuife,
Like me fubdued to love's fupreme command.
No healing herbs could footh their master's pain,
The art of phyfic loft, and ufclefs lay,
To Peneus ftream, and Tempe's fhady plain,
He drove his herds beneath the noon tide ray:
| Oft with a bleating lamb in either arm,
His bluthing Sifter faw him pace along;
Oft would his voice the filent valley charm,
Till lowing oxen broke the tender fong.
Where are his triumphs? where his warlike toil?
Where by his darts the crefted Pithon flain?
Where are his Delphi? his delightful ifle?
The God himself is grown a cottage fwain.
O, Ceres! in your golden fields no more,
With Harveft's chearful pomp my fair detain,-

Who feven flow months have dragg'd iny painful Think what for loft Proferpina you bore,

chain,

So long thy lover, and defpis'd so long?
By all the joys thy dearest Cælia gave,
Let not her once-lov'd friend unpitied burn;
So may her afhes find a peaceful grave,
And sleep uninjur'd in their facred urn.
To her 1 first avow'd my timorous flame,
She nurs'd my hopes, and taught me how to fuc,
She ftill would pity what the wife might blame,
And feel for weaknefs which fhe 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 ftone,
I tell it all the griefs my wrongs infpire,
The marble image feems to hear my moan:
Thy friend's pale ghost shall vex thy fleeplefs bed,
And ftand before thee all in virgin white;
That ruthlefs boiom will difturb the dead,
And call forth pity from eternal night:
Ceafe, cruel man, the mournful theme forbear,
Though much thou fuffer, to thyfelf complain :
Ah, to recal the fad remembrance fpare,
One tear from her, is more than all my pain.

And in a mother's anguish 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 honest joy,
No wakeful guard, no doors to ftop defire.
Thrice happy times!-But, oh I fondly rave,
Lead me to Delia, all her eycs infpire
Ill do. I'll plough, or dig as Delia's flave.

ELEGY VIII.

He defpairs that he fhall ever poffefs Delia.
H, what avails thy lover's pious care?

His Lavith incenfe clouds the fky in vain,
Nor wealth nor greatness 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,
Till in thy arms an age of joy was past,
Then, old with love, infenfibly decay,
And on thy bofom gently breathe my laft.
I fcorn the Lydian river's golden wave,
And all the vulgar charms of human life,

I only ask to live my Delia's fave,

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 repose,

To train her yielding beauties to my breast,
And kifs her wearied eye-lids till they clofe.
Attend, 0 Juno! with thy fober ear,

On Delia's being in the Country, where he fup- Attend, gay Venus, parent of defire; pofes the ftays to fee the Harvelt.

TOW Delia breathes in woods the fragrant air, he hearts that fill in town remain,

NOW

This one fond with, if you refuse to hear,
Oh, let me with this figh of love expire.

With mean difguife let others nature hide,
And mimic virtue with the paint of art,
I fcorn the cheat of reafon's foolish pride,
And boaft the grateful weakness of my heart.
The more I think, the more I feel my pain,
And learn the more each heavenly charm to prize;
While fools too light for paffion, fafe remain,
And dull fenfation keeps the ftupid wife.
Sad is my day, and fad my lingering night,
When, wrapt in filent grief, I weep alone,
Delia is loft, and all my paft delight

Is now the fource of unavailing moan.
Where is the wit that heighton'd beauty's charms?
Where is the face that fed my longing eyes?
Where is the fhape that might have bleft my arms?
Where are thofe hopes relentless Fate denies?
When spent with endless grief I die at laft,
Delia 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 dolefu 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 feaft,
And all the pride of Afia's fragrant year;
Give them the treasures of the farthest Eaft,
And, what is ftill 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 show :
Here lies a youth, borne down with love and care,
He could not long his Delia's lofs abide,
Joy left his bofom with the parting fair,

And when he durft no longer hope, he dy'd.

ELEGY X

On Delia's Birth-day.

HIS day, which faw my Delia's

What I demand. perhaps her heart defires,
But virgin fears her nicer tongue restrain;
The fecret thought, which blufhing love infpires,
The conscious eye can full as well explain."

ELEGY XI.

Against Lovers going to War, in which he philo fophically prefers Love and Delia to the more ferious Vanities of the World.

T

THE man who fharpen'd first the warlike steel,
How fell and deadly was his iron heart,
He gave the wound encountering nations fcel,
And death grew ftronger by his fatal art :
Yet not from steel debate and battle rofe,
'Tis gold o'erturns the even scale of life,
Nature is free to all, and none were foes;
Till partial luxury began the ftrife.
Let spoil and victory adorn the bold,
V'hile I inglorious neither hope nor fear,
Perifh the thirst of honour, thirst of gold,
Ere for my abfence Delia lose a tear:
Why should the lover quit his pleafing home,
In fearch of danger on fome foreign ground;
Far from his weeping fair ungrateful roam,
And risk in every stroke a double wound?
Ah, better far, beneath the spreading fhade,
With chearful friends to drain the fprightly bowl
To fing the beauties of my darling maid,
And on the sweet idea feast 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 fhe pants, the faints, and finks to reft.

N

ELEGY XII,
To Delia.

O fecond love fhall e'er my heart furprize,
This folemn league did first our passion binds
Thou, only thou, canft pleate thy lover's eyes,
Thy voice alone can footh his troubled mind.

Oh, that thy charms were only fair to me,
Displease all others, and fecure my rest,

TShall more than all our facred days by bleft, No need of envy, let me happy be,

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 still the fame!
1 burn, and glory in the pleafing 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 are blotted from her mind.
And thou, O Venus, hear my righteous prayer,
Or bind the fhepherdefs, or loofe the fwain,
Yet rather guard them both with equal care,
And let them die together in thy chain?

little care that others know me bleft.

With thee in gloomy deferts let me dwell,
Where never human footstep mark'd the ground;
Thou, light of life, all darkness can expel,
And feem a world with folitude around.

I fay too much-my heed cfs words restore,
My tongue undoes me in this loving hour;
Thou know'it thy strength, and thence infulting

more,

Will make me feel the weight of all thy power:
Whatc'er I fee thy flave I will remain,
Nor fly the burden I am form'd to bear,
In chains Ill 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.

IT others boaft their heaps of fhining gold,

L'Andview their fields, with waving plenty

crown'd,

Whom neighbouring foes in conftant terror hold,
And trumpets break their flumbers, never found :
While calmly poor 1 trifle life away,
Enjoy sweet leisure by my chearful fire,
Ao wanton hopes my quiet fhall betray,
But, cheaply blet, I'll fcorn each vain defire.
With timely care I'll fow my little field,
And pant my orchard with its master's hand,
Nor bluth to spread the hay, the hook to wield,
Or range my fheaves along the funny land.
If late at dusk, while carelefsly I roam,
I meet a ftrolling kid, or bleating lamb,
Under my arm I'll bring the wanderer home,
And not a 'ittle chide its thoughtless dam.
What joy to hear the tempeft howl in vain,
And clafp a fearful mistress 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 kisses sweet,
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 arn, not what I feem,"
I live for Delia and myself alone.

Ah, foolifa man, who thus of her poffeft,
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 might fufpicion raise,
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 speak his listening country's wrongs,
My humble voice fhall please one partial maid;
For her alone I pen my tender song,
Securely fitting in his friendly fhade.
Stanhope fhall come, and grace his rural friend,
Delia fhall wonder at her noble gueft,
With blushing awe the riper fruit commend,
And for her hufband's patron cull the beft.
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 distinguish'd from the reft.

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 ftately bed,
And far from her 'midft taftelefs grandeur weep,
By marble fountains lay the penfive head,
And, while they murmur, strive in vain to fleep?
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 muftrefs, and my friend,
I taste the joys of fenfe and reafon 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 checks, nor hurt that flowing hair,
Though I am dead, my foul fhall love thee ftill.
Oh, quit the room, oh, quit the deathful bed,
Or thou wilt die, fo tender is thy heart;
Oh, leave me, Deia, 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 ftate,
Through all the village spread the tender tear,
While pitying maids our wonderous loves relate.

ELEGY XIV.

To Delia.

Windom lone fpot with Peace and thee retir'd!

HATfcenes of blifs my raptur'dfancy fram'd,

Though reafon then iny fanguine fondnefs blam'd,
I ftill believ'd what flattering love infpir'd
But now my wrongs have taught my humbled mind,
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 elegant 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 self-undoing wrong,
And trace the author through his moral page,
Whofe blamelels 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 breast a noble warmth fhall feel,
And glow with love, where weakness has no part.
Thy heart, O Lyttleton, fh all be my guide,
Its fire fhall war me, and its worth improve;
Thy heart, above all envy, and all pride,
Firm as man's fenfe, and foft as woman love.

And