No blush of love in soft suffusion bloom'd,
Nor pity's dewy light her eyes illumed.
His raging wound she ne'er essay'd to calm;
Nor pour'd, in kisses or in sighs, a balm!
But savage as the wildest beast that prowls,
That on the forest hunters grimly scowls,
No parley could her fury spirit brook ;
Lour'd her dark eyes, and death was in her look!
Oft from her face the roseate colour flew,
And her whole soul in anger rush'd to view!
Yet was she fair, and e'en disdain had charms—
He sigh'd to snatch her frowning to his arms!
At length, bewilder'd in the gloom of Fate,
He sought with trembling steps the virgin's gate;
Kiss'd the bare threshold, hung his throbbing head;
And, his tears gushing in a torrent, said-
'Ah, cruel fair! in some wild forest born!
Thy hatred-love; and all thy pleasure-scorn!
Thy nurse the bloody lioness alone:
Thy cold, cold heart-impenetrable stone!
Take-take this cord-'tis all I now can give-
I go (nor longer will thy torment live)—
To where the wretched find relief I go-
Where lovers drink oblivion of their woe!
Yet what this scorching fever-what can tame?
Alas! all Lethe could not quench the flame!
Adieu, ye gates, to meet these eyes no more;
Farewell! I see what time reserves in store!
Fair is the rose, yet soon its beauty flies!
Soon the sweet violet, soon the lily, dies!
Soon melts the whiteness of the fleeting snow;
Thus passes youth! thus fades its vernal glow!
The time will come,when e'en thy heart shall prove,
While stream thy bitter tears, the pangs of love?
Aiming its massive vengeance at the foe
With wild uplifted arm in act to throw-
Heaven's sovereign Lord elanced a flaming brand
That dash'd the shattering marble from his hand!
Through all his writhing frame the lightnings sped,
And, in a crash of thunder, he fell dead!
The Brothers thus unrival'd fervour fires,
Brave in themselves, and sprung from valiant sires!
Hail, sons of Leda! let each noble name
Give to my hymning harp a deathless fame!
For every poet, kindling, as he sings
Your deeds, and Helen's, and the heroic kings
Who level'd Ilion's pride, in ancient days,
Lives in your spirit, and partakes the praise!
His lofty lyre to warlike glory strung,
Your high renown the Chian poet sung,
With Argive fleets, and battles famed afar,
And Troy and Thetis' son, the tower of war.
I too chant martial numbers; nor refuse
The humble offerings of my votive Muse!
Such as the Nine inspire, my verse appears—
Poetic honours charm immortal ears!
IDYLLIUM XXIII.
The Despairing Lover.
AN amorous shepherd loved a cruel maid;
And breathed vain wishes, all with scorn repaid.
Her beauteous figure but belied her mind-
A form too lovely, with a soul unkind!
She knew not Cupid, or his bitter dart;
She knew not Cupid's power to tame the heart.
No blush of love in soft suffusion bloom'd,
Nor pity's dewy light her eyes illumed.
His raging wound she ne'er essay'd to calm;
Nor pour'd, in kisses or in sighs, a balm!
But savage as the wildest beast that prowls,
That on the forest hunters grimly scowls,
No parley could her fury spirit brook;
Lour'd her dark eyes, and death was in her look!
Oft from her face the roseate colour flew,
And her whole soul in anger rush'd to view!
Yet was she fair, and e'en disdain had charms-
He sigh'd to snatch her frowning to his arms!
At length, bewilder'd in the gloom of Fate,
He sought with trembling steps the virgin's gate;
Kiss'd the bare threshold, hung his throbbing head;
And, his tears gushing in a torrent, said-
'Ah, cruel fair! in some wild forest born!
Thy hatred-love; and all thy pleasure-scorn!
Thy nurse-the bloody lioness alone:
Thy cold, cold heart-impenetrable stone!
Take-take this cord-'tis all I now can give
I go (nor longer will thy torment live)-
To where the wretched find relief I go-
Where lovers drink oblivion of their woe!
Yet what-this scorching fever-what can tame?
Alas! all Lethe could not quench the flame!
Adieu, ye gates, to meet these eyes no more;
Farewell! I see what time reserves in store!
Fair is the rose, yet soon its beauty flies!
Soon the sweet violet, soon the lily, dies!
Soon melts the whiteness of the fleeting snow;
Thus passes youth! thus fades its vernal glow!
The time will come, when e'en thy heart shall prove,
While stream thy bitter tears, the pangs of love?
Yet grant this prayer, alas!! I ask no more,
When thou shalt seè me pendent at thy door,
Ah, pass not-pass not by-but kindly shed
A tear of pity to embalm the dead!
And loose the cord; and o'er me lightly throw
Your shading robe; and then one kiss bestow;
At least refuse not such a boon in death-
Fear not, no kisses can restore my breath;
Ah! fear not-I shall never more arise!
E'en though thou kiss with soft relenting sighs!
Last, duly dug, my sepulchre provide,
My love and me its hollow cell shall hide!
And thrice "Here rests my friend!" departing
cry, "Here lies my true love's clay!" Then let this simple epitaph be mine
(My trembling hand now traces the faint line), "Love slew him, traveller! stop-to sooth his shade!
And pitying say, he loved a ruthless maid;"
This said, and in despairing frenzy bold,
High by the wall a ponderous stone he roll'd;
Then, climbing, fix'd the cord above, and tied
The fatal noose, and spurn'd the stone aside-
Quivering in death! the fair one, when she saw
Her pendent lover, show'd no signs of awe,
Nor shed one tear; but scornful glances cast,
And her light robe polluted, as she pass'd,
Then ran to view the wrestlers in the grove,
Thence visiting the bath devote to love:
There Cupid's image on a marble base,
Stood frowning o'er the consecrated place;
And, instant, as he saw the fair one lave,
He fell, and crush'd her in the fountain wave!
Life's purple current spouted at the blow, And these last words came faltering from below---'Lovers, adieu! behold, the scorner dies!
Love those that love! for Heaven's decrees are wise.'
SOON as Alcmena bade her pleasing care,
Wash'd, and with milk well fed, for rest prepare;
Alcides, who ten months had seen the light,
And Iphiclus, just younger by a night;
She gently laid them on the brazen shield
(Which great Amphitryon in the tented field.
From Pterilas had won), on either head
Placed her fair hands, and fondly smiling, said,
'Sleep-sleep secure, my boys, the night away;
Sweet be your easy rest, till dawning day.'
She spoke and straight their heavy eyelids yield
To slumber, as she rocks the cradling shield.
But when descending Ursa mark'd the skies,
Where the red rays of broad Orion rise,
Veil'd by the shades of midnight, Juno sent
(Her vengeful soul unknowing to relent)
Two serpents, with commission to destroy
The infant Hercules, Jove's vigorous boy!
Terrific through the portal's valves they came,
Their eyeballs shooting a pernicious flame!
Bristled their azure scales o'er many a fold,
Then prone to earth their blood-swollen bellies
roll'd!
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