Yet if I should behold my love awake, Ah, frail resolves, ah whither will ye fly? Full well I know I shall not silence break, But struck with awe almost with fear shall die. Oh no, I will not trust a faltering speech In broken phrase an awkward tale to tell, A tale whose tenderness no tongue can reach, Nor softest melody can utter well. But my meek eye, best herald of my heart, My love, nor fear the language be mistook. For she shall read (apt scholar at this lore) Nor dare the boldness of my wish disclose. Should she then smile,-yet ah! she smiles on all, Her gentle temper pities all distress; On every hill, each vale the sunbeams fall, Each herb and flower, each tree and shrub they bless. Alike all nature grateful owns the boon, Like fond Endymion should I hope the moon, Hope, vain presumer, keep, oh, keep away; Yet, heavenly visitant, thou dost not quit Glad choirs of loves attend, and hovering wait ANONYMOUS. ON HIS FALLING IN LOVE WITH NEÆRA. FAREWELL that liberty our fathers gave; In vain they gave, their sons received in vain: I saw Neæra, and, her instant slave, Though born a Briton, hugg'd the servile chain. Her usage well repays my coward heart; Oh! that, to feel these killing pangs no more, Adieu, ye Muses! or my passion aid; Why should I loiter by your idle spring? My humble voice would move one only maid, And she contemns the trifles which I sing. VOL. IV. I I do not ask the lofty epic strain, Nor strive to paint the wonders of the sphere; No more in useless innocence I'll pine; Deceived by thee, I loved a beauteous maid, Unwise who first, the charm of nature lost, With Tyrian purple soil'd the snowy sheep; Unwiser still who seas and mountains cross'd, To dig the rock and search the pearly deep. These costly toys our silly fair surprise; The shining follies cheat their feeble sight; Their hearts, secure in trifles, love despise: '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 smooth and polish so each outward grace? Hence all the blame that Love and Venus bear Hence pleasure short, and anguish ever long; Hence tears and sighs; and hence the peevish fair, The froward lover-Hence this angry song. HAMMOND. TO FORTUNE, SUGGESTING HIS MOTIVES FOR REPINING AT HER DISPENSATIONS. Ask not the cause why this rebellious tongue 'Tis not that in my shed I lurk forlorn, Nor see my roof on Parian columns rise; That on this breast no mimic star is borne Revered,ah! more than those that light the skies. 'Tis not that, on the turf supinely laid, I sing or pipe but to the flocks that graze; And, all inglorious, in the lonesome shade My finger stiffens, and my voice decays. Not that my fancy mourns thy stern command, When many an embryo dome is lost in air; While guardian Prudence checks my eager hand, And, ere the turf is broken, cries, 'Forbear! 'Forbear, vain youth! be cautious, weigh thy gold, Nor let yon rising column more aspire; Ah! better dwell in ruins than behold Thy fortunes mouldering, and thy domes entire. 'Honorio built, but dared my laws defy; He planted, scornful of my sage commands; The peach's vernal bud regaled his eye, The fruitage ripen'd for more frugal hands. 'See the small stream that pours its murmuring tide O'er some rough rock that would its wealth, display, Displays it aught but penury and pride? Ah! construe wisely what such murmurs say. 'How would some flood, with ampler treasures bless'd, Disdainful view the scantling drops distill! At noon the poor mechanic wanders home, To see it scarce survive a winter's day. That his rude voice, his grating reed's preferr❜d? Let him exult, with boundless wealth supplied, Mine and the swain's reluctant homage share; But, ah! his tawdry shepherdess's pride, Gods! must my Delia, must my Delia bear? * A river in Italy that falls 100 yards perpendicular. |