Into the grasp of any ruin run,
That I can warn them of, and they may shun.
Fly, youth, these guilty shades: retreat in time,
Ere your mistake 's converted to a crime:
For ignorance no longer can atone,
When once the errour and the fault is known.
You thought, perhaps, as giddy youth inclines,
Imprudently to value all that shines,
In these retirements freely to possess
True joy, and strong substantial happiness:
But here gay Folly keeps her court, and here,
In crowds, her tributary fops appear;
Who, blindly lavish of their golden days,
Consume them all in her fallacious ways.
Pert Love with her, by joint commission, rules
In this capacious realm of idle fools;
Who, by false hearts, and popular deceits,
The careless, fond, unthinking mortal cheats.
'Tis easy to descend into the snare,
By the pernicious conduct of the fair;
But safely to return from this abode,
Requires the wit, the prudence of a god:
Though you, who have not tasted that delight,
Which only at a distance charms your sight,
May, with a little toil, retrieve your heart,
Which, lost, is subject to eternal smart.
Bright Delia's beauty, I must needs confess,
Is truly great; nor would I make it less :
That were to wrong her, where she merits most;
But dragons guard the fruit, and rocks the coast.
And who would run, that 's moderately wise,
A certain danger, for a doubtful prize?
If you miscarry, you are lost so far
(For there's no erring twice in love and war)
You'll ne'er recover, but must always wear
Those chains you 'll find it difficult to bear.
Delia has charms, I own; such charms would move
Old Age, and frozen Impotence to love:
But do not venture, where such danger lies;
Avoid the sight of those victorious eyes,
Whose poisonous rays do to the soul impart
Delicious ruin, and a pleasing smart.
You draw, insensibly, destruction near;
And love the danger, which you ought to fear.
If the light pains you labour under now
Destroy your ease, and make your spirits bow;
You'll find them much more grievous to be borne,
When heavier made by an imperious scorn:
Nor can you hope, she will your passion hear
With softer notions, or a kinder ear,
Than those of other swains, who always found,
She rather widen'd than clos'd up the wound.
But grant, she should indulge your flame, and give
Whate'er you'd ask, nay, all you can receive;
The short-liv'd pleasure would so quickly cloy,
Bring such a weak, and such a feeble joy,
You'd have but small encouragement to boast
The tinsel rapture worth the pains it cost.
Consider, Strephon, soberly of things,
What strange inquietudes love always brings!
The foolish fears, vain hopes, and jealousies,
Which still attend upon this fond disease:
How you must cringe and bow, submit and whine;
Call every feature, every look, divine:
Command each sentence with an humble smile;
Though nonsense, swear it is a heavenly style:
Servilely rail at all she disapproves ;
And as ignobly flatter all she loves:
Renounce your very sense, and silent sit,
While she puts off impertinence for wit:
Like setting-dog, new whipp'd for springing game,
You must be made, by due correction, tame.
But if you can endure the nauseous rule
Of woman, do; love on, and be a fool.
You know the danger, your own methods use;
The good or evil 's in your power to choose:
But who'd expect a short and dubious bliss
On the declining of a precipice;
Where if he slips, not Fate itself can save
The falling wretch from an untimely grave!"
"Thou great directress of our minds," said I,
"We safely on your dictates may rely;
And that which you have now so kindly prest,
Is true, and, without contradiction, best:
But with a steady sentence to control
The heat and vigour of a youthful soul,
While gay temptations hover in our sight,
And daily bring new objects of delight,
Which on us with surprising beauty smile,
Is difficult; but is a noble toil.
The best may slip, and the most cautious fall;
He's more than mortal that ne'er err'd at all.
And though fair Delia has my soul possest,
I'll chase her bright idea from my breast:
At least, I'll make one essay. If I fail,
And Delia's charms o'er reason do prevail,
I may be, sure, from rigid censures free,
Love was my foe; and Love 's a deity."
Then she rejoin'd: "May you successful prove
In your attempt to curb impetuous Love:
Then will proud passion on her rightful lord,
You to yourself, I to my throne restor❜d:
But to confirm your courage, and inspire
Your resolution with a bolder fire,
Follow me, youth! I'll show you that shall
Your soul to curse the tyranny of Love."
Then she convey'd me to a dismal shade, Which melancholy yew and cypress made; Where I beheld an antiquated pile Of rugged building in a narrow isle; The water round it gave a nauseous smell, Like vapours steeming from a sulphurous eell. The ruin'd wall, compos'd of stinking mud, O'ergrown with hemlock, on supporters stood; As did the roof, ungrateful to the view: 'T was both an hospital, and bedlam too. Before the entrance, mouldering bones were spreads Some skeletons entire, some lately dead ; A little rubbish loosely scatter'd o'er Their bodies uninterr'd, lay round the door. No funeral rites to any here were paid, But dead like dogs into the dust convey'd. From hence, by Reason's conduct, I was brought, Through various turnings to a spacious vault, Where I beheld, and 'twas a mournful sight, Vast crowds of wretches all debarr'd from light, But what a few dim lamps, expiring, had; Which made the prospect more amazing sad. Some wept, some rav'd, some musically mad: Some swearing loud, and others laughing: some Were always talking; others always dumb. Here one, a dagger in his breast, expires, And quenches with his blood his amorous fires: There hangs a second; and, not far remov'd, A third lies poison'd, who false Celia lov'd. All sorts of madness, every kind of death, By which unhappy mortals lose their breath, Were here expos'd before my wandering eyes, The sad effects of female treacheries;
Others I saw, who were not quite bereft
Of sense, though very small remains were left,
Cursing, the fatal folly of their youth,
For trusting to perjurious woman's truth.
These on the left.Upon the right a view
Of equal horrour, equal misery too;
Amazing! all employ'd my troubled thought,
And, with new wonder, new aversion brought.
There I beheld a wretched, numerous throng
Of pale, lean mortals; some lay stretch'd along
On beds of straw, disconsolate and poor;
Others extended naked on the floor;
Exil'd from human pity, here they lie,
And know no end of misery till they die,
Who, when the sated appetite is tir'd,
E'en loath the thoughts of what they once admir'd.
You 've promis'd, Strephon, to forsake the charms
Of Delia, though she courts you to her arms:
And sure I may your resolution trust;
You'll never want temptation, but be just.
Vows of this nature, youth, must not be broke;
You 're always bound, though 't is a gentle yoke.
Would men be wise, and my advice pursue,
Love's conquests would be small, his triumphs few:
For nothing can oppose his tyranny,
With such a prospect of success as I.
Me he detests, and from my presence flies,
Who knows his arts, and stratagems despise,
But Death, which comes in gay and prosperous days By which he cancels mighty Wisdom's rules, Too soon, in time of misery delays.
These dreadful spectacles had so much power,
I vow'd, and solemnly, to love no more:
For sure that flame is kindled from below,
Which breeds such sad variety of woe.
Then we descended, by some few degrees, From this stupendous scene of miseries; Bold Reason brought me to another cave, Dark as the inmost chambers of the grave. "Here, youth," she cry'd, “in the acutest pain, Those villains lie, who have their fathers slain, Stabb'd their own brothers, nay, their friends, to Ambitious, proud, revengeful mistresses; Who, after all their services, preferr'd Some rugged fellow of the brawny herd Before those wretches; who, despairing, dwell In agonies no human tongue can tell. Darkness prevents the too amazing sight; And you may bless the happy want of light." But my tormented ears were fill'd with sighs, Expiring groans, and lamentable cries, So very sad I could endure no more; Methought I felt the miseries they bore.
Then to my guide said I: "For pity now
Conduct me back; here I confirm my vow.
Which, if I dare infringe, be this my fate,
To die thus wretched, and repent too late.
The charms of beauty I'll no more pursue:
Delia, farewell, farewell for ever too."
Then we return'd to the delightful grove;
Where Reason still dissuaded me from Love.
"You see," she cry'd, "what misery attends
On Love, and where too frequently it ends;
And let not that unwieldy passion sway
Your soul, which none but whining fools obey.
The masculine, brave spirit scorns to own
The proud usurper of my sacred throne;
Nor with idolatrous devotion pays
To the false god, or sacrifice, or praise.
The Siren's music charms the sailor's ear;
But he is ruin'd if he stops to hear:
And if you listen, Love's harmonious voice
As much delights, as certainly destroys.
Ambrosia mixt with Aconite may have
A pleasant taste, but sends you to the grave:
For though the latent poison may be still
A while, it very seldom fails to kill.
But who'd partake the food of gods, to die
Within a day, or live in misery?
"Who 'd eat with emperors, if o'er his head
A poniard hung but by a single thread '?
Love's banquets are extravagantly sweet,
And either kill, or surfeit, all that eat;
To make himself the deity of fools:
Him dully they adore, him blindly serve,
Some while they're sots, and others while they starve;
For those who under his wild conduct go,
Either come coxcombs, or he makes them so;
His charms deprive, by their strange influence,
The brave of courage, and the wise of sense:
In vain philosophy would set the mind
At liberty, if once by him confin'd:
The scholar's learning, and the poet's wit,
A while may struggle, but at last submit:
Well-weigh'd results and wise conclusions seem
But empty chat, impertinence to him:
His opiates seize so strongly on the brain,
They make all prudent application vain:
If, therefore, you resolve to live at ease,
To taste the sweetness of internal peace;
Would not for safety to a battle fly,
Or choose a shipwreck, if afraid to die:
Far from these pleasurable shades remove,
And leave the fond, inglorious toil of Love."
This said, she vanish'd, and methought I found
Myself transported to a rising ground;
From whence I did a pleasant vale survey,
Large was the prospect, beautiful, and gay;
There I beheld th' apartments of delight,
Whose curious forms oblig'd the wondering sight;
Some in full view upon the champaign plac'd,
With lofty walls and cooling streams embrac'd:
Others, in shady groves, retir'd from noise,
The seat of private and exalted joys.
At a great distance I perceiv'd there stood
A stately building in a spacious wood,
Whose gilded turrets rais'd their beauteous heads
High in the air, to view the neighbouring meads,
Where vulgar lovers spend their happy days,
In rustic dancing, and delightful plays.
But while I gaz'd with admiration round,
I heard from far celestial music sound:
So soft, so moving, so harmonious, all
The artful charming notes did rise and fall;
My soul, transported with the graceful airs,
Shook off the pressures of its former fears:
I felt afresh the little god begin
To stir himself, and gentle move within.
Then I repented I had vow'd no more
To love, or Delia's beauteous eyes adore.
"Why am now condemu'd to banishment,
And made an exile, by my own consent?"
I sighing, cry'd: "Why should I live in pain
Those fleeting hours which ne'er return again?
O Delia! what can wretched Strephon do!
Inhuman to himself, and false to you!
'Tis true, I 've promis'd Reason to remove
From these retreats, and quit bright Delia's love:
But is not Reason partially unkind?
Are all her votaries, like me, confin'd?
Must none, that under her dominion live,
To Love and Beauty veneration give?
Why then did Nature youthful Delia grace
With a majestic mien, and charming face?
Why did she give her that surprising air;
Make her so gay, so witty, and so fair;
Mistress of all that can affection move,
If Reason will not suffer us to love?
But, since it must be so, I'll haste away;
'Tis fatal to return, and death to stay.
From you, blest shades! (if I may call you so
Inculpable) with mighty pain I go:
Compell'd from hence, I leave my quiet here;
I may find safety, but I buy it dear."
Then turning round, I saw a beauteous boy,
Such as of old were messengers of joy:
"Who art thou, or from whence? if sent," said I,
"To me, my haste requires a quick reply."
"I come," he cry'd," from yon celestial grove,
Where stands the temple of the god of Love;
With whose important favour you are grac'd,
And justly in his high protection plac'd:
Be grateful, Strephon, and obey that god,
Whose sceptre ne'er is chang'd into a rod:
That god, to whom the haughty and the proud,
The bold, the bravest, nay, the best, have bow'd:
That god, whom all the lesser gods adore;
First in existence, and the first in power.
From him I come, on embassy divine,
To tell thee, Delia, Delia may be thine;
To whom all beauties rightful tribute pay;
Delia the young, the lovely, and the gay.
If you dare push your fortune, if you dare
But be resolv'd, and press the yielding fair,
Success and glory will your labours crown;
For Fate does rarely on the valiant frown.
But, were you sure to be unkindly us'd,
Boldly receiv'd, and scornfully refus'd;
He greater glory and more fame obtains,
Who loses Delia, than who Phyllis gains.
But, to prevent all fears that may arise,
Checks every wild excursion of the mind,
By her wise dictates happily confin'd:
And he that will not her commands obey,
Leaves a safe convoy in a dangerous sea,
True, I love Delia to a vast excess,
But I must try to make my passion less :
Try if I can, if possible, I will,
For I have vow'd, and must that vow fulfil.
Oh! had I not, with what a vigorous flight
Could I pursue the quarries of delight!
How could I press fair Delia in these arms,
Till I dissolv'd in love, and she in charms!
But now no more must I her beauties view;
Yet tremble at the thoughts to leave her too.
What would I give, I might my flame allow !
But 'tis forbid by Reason, and a vow;
Two mighty obstacles: though Love of old
Has broke through greater, stronger powers control'd.
Should I offend, by high example taught,
'T would not be an inexpiable fault,
The crimes of Malice have found grace above,
And sure kind Heaven will spare the crimes of Love
Could'st thou, my angel, but instruct me how
I might be happy, and not break my vow;
Or, by some subtle art, dissolve the chain;
You'd soon revive my dying hopes again.
Reason and Love, I know, could ne'er agree;
Both would command, and both superior be.
Reason 's supported by the sinewy force
Of solid argument, and wise discourse:
But Love pretends to use no other arms
Than soft impressions, and persuasive charms.
One must be disobey'd; and shall I prove
A rebel to my Reason, or to Love?
But then, suppose I should my flame pursue,
Delia may be unkind, and faithless too;
Reject my passion with a proud disdain,
And scorn the love of such an humble swain:
Then should I labour under mighty grief,
Beyond all hopes or prospect of relief.
So that, methinks, 't is safer to obey
Right Reason, though she bears a rugged sway,
Than Love's soft rule, whose subjects undergo,
(Though fears ne'er move the daring and the wise) Early or late, too sad a share of woe.
In the dark volumes of Eternal Doom,
Where all things past, and present, and to come,
Are writ, I saw these words- - It is decreed,
That Strephon's love to Delia shall succeed.'
What would you more? While youth and vigour last,
Love, and be happy; they decline too fast.
In youth alone you 're capable to prove
The mighty transports of a generous love:
For dull Old Age, with fumbling labour, cloys
Before the bliss, or gives but wither'd joys.
Youth's the best time for action mortals have;
That past, they touch the confines of the grave.
Now, if you hope to lie in Delia's arms,
To die in raptures, or dissolve in charms,
Quick to the blissful happy mansion fly,
Where all is one continued ecstasy.
Delia impatiently expects you there:
And sure you will not disappoint the fair.
None but the impotent or old would stay,
When Love invites, and Beauty calls away."
"Oh! you convey," said I, "dear charming boy,
Into my soul a strange disorder'd joy.
I would, but dare not, your advice pursue;
I've promis'd Reason, and I must be true.
Reason 's the rightful empress of the soul;
Does all exorbitant desires control;
Can I so soon forget that wretched crew,
Reason just now expos'd before my view?
If Delia should be cruel, I must be
A sad partaker of their misery.
But your encouragements so strongly move,
I'm almost tempted to pursue my love:
For sure no treacherous designs should dwell
In one that argues and persuades so well;
For what could Love by my destruction gain?
Love's an immortal god, and I a swain;
And sure I may without suspicion trust
A god, for gods can never be unjust."
"Right you conclude," reply'd the smiling boy;
"Love ruins none, 'tis men themselves destroy;
And those vile wretches which you lately saw,
Transgress'd his rules, as well as Reason's law.
They're not Love's subjects, but the slaves of Lust;
Nor is their punishment so great as just.
For Love and Lust essentially divide,
Like day and night, Humility and Pride;
One darkness hides, t' other does always shine;
This of infernal make, and that divine.
Reason no generous passion does oppose;
'Tis Lust (not Love) and Reason that are foes.
She bids you scorn a base inglorious flame,
Black as the gloomy shade from whence it came:
In this her precepts should obedience find;
But yours is not of that ignoble kind.
You err in thinking she would disapprove
The brave pursuit of honourable love:
And therefore judge what 's harmless an offence;
Invert her meaning, and mistake her sense.
She could not such insipid counsel give,
As not to love at all; 'tis not to live,
But where bright virtue and true beauty lies,
And that in Delia, charming Delia's eyes.
Could you contented see th' angelic maid
In old Alexis' dull embraces laid?
Or rough-hewn Tityrus possess those charms,
Which are in heaven, the heaven of Delia's arms?
Consider, youth, what transport you forego,
The most entire felicity below;
Which is by Fate alone reserv'd for you:
Monarchs have been deny'd; for monarchs sue.
I own 'tis difficult to gain the prize;
Or 't would be cheap and low in noble eyes:
But there is one soft minute, when the mind
Is left unguarded, waiting to be kind;
Which the wise lover understanding right,
Steals in like day upon the wings of light.
You urge your vow, but can those vows prevail,
Whose first foundation and whose reason fail?
You vow'd to leave fair Delia; but you thought
Your passion was a crime, your flame a fault.
But since your judgment err'd, it has no force
To bind at all, but is dissolv'd of course;
And therefore hesitate no longer here,
But banish all the dull remains of fear.
Dare you be happy, youth? but dare, and be;
I'll be your convoy to the charming she.
What! still irresolute? debating still?
View her, and then forsake her if you will."
As if some architect divine had strove
T'ontdo the palace of imperial Jove;
The ponderous gates of massy gold were made,
With di'monds of a mighty size inlaid;
Here stood the winged guards, in order plac'd,
With shining darts and golden quivers grac❜d:
As we approach'd, they clapp'd their joyful wings,
And cry'd aloud, "Tune, tune your warbling strings;
The grateful youth is come, to sacrifice
At Delia's altar to bright Delia's eyes:
With harmony divine his soul inspire,
That he may boldly touch the sacred fire;
And ye that wait upon the blushing fair,
Celestial incense and perfumes prepare;
While our great god her panting bosom warms,
Refines her beauties, and improves her charms.”
Entering the spacious dome, my ravish'd eyes
A wondrous scene of glory did surprise:
The riches, symmetry, and brightness, all
Did equally for admiration call!
But the description is a labour fit
For none beneath a laureat angel's wit.
Amidst the temple was an altar made
Of solid gold, where adoration 's paid;
Here I perform'd the usual rites with fear,
Not daring boldly to approach too near;
Till from the god a smiling Cupid came,
And bid me touch the consecrated flame:
Which done, my guide my eager steps convey'd
To the apartment of the beauteous maid.
Before the entrance was her altar rais'd,
On pedestals of polish'd marble plac'd,
By it her guardian Cupid always stands,
Who troops of missionary Loves command:
To him, with soft addresses all repair:
Each for his captive humbly begs the fair:
"I'll go," said I; "once more I'll venture all; Though still in vain they importun'd; for he
'Tis brave to perish by a noble fall.
Beauty no mortal can resist; and Jove
Laid by his grandeur, to indulge his love.
Reason, if I do err, my crime forgive:
Angels alone without offending live.
I go astray but as the wise have done;
And act a folly which they did not shun."
Then we, descending to a spacious plain,
Were soon saluted by a numerous train
Of happy lovers, who consum'd their hours,
With constant jollity, in shady bowers.
There I beheld the blest variety
Of joy, from all corroding troubles free:
Each follow'd his own fancy to delight;
Though all went different ways, yet all went right.
None err'd, or miss'd the happiness he sought;
Love to one centre every twining brought. [glades,
We pass'd through numerous pleasant fields and
By murmuring fountains, and by peaceful shades;
Till we approach'd the confines of the wood,
Where mighty Love's immortal temple stood;
Round the celestial fane, in goodly rows,
And beauteous order, amorous myrtle grows;
Beneath whose shade expecting lovers wait
For the kind minute of indulgent Fate:
Each had his guardian Cupid, whose chief care,
By secret motions, was to warm the fair;
Would give encouragement to none but me.
“There stands the youth," he cry'd, “must take
The lovely Delia can be none but his :
Fate has selected him; and mighty Love
Confirms below what that decrees above.
Then press no more; there's not another swain
On Earth, but Strephon, can bright Delia gain.
Kneel, youth, and with a grateful mind renew
Your vows; swear you 'll eternally be true.
But if you dare be false, dare perjur'd prove,
You'll find, in sure revenge, affronted Love
As hot, as fierce, as terrible, as Jove."
"Hear me, ye gods," said I, "now hear me swear,
By all that 's sacred, and by all that's fair!
If I prove false to Delia, let me fall
The common obloquy, condemn'd by all!
Let me the utmost of your vengeance try;
Forc'd to live wretched, and unpity'd die !"
Then he expos'd the lovely sleeping maid,
Upon, a couch of new-blown roses laid.
The blushing colour in her cheeks express'd
What tender thoughts inspir'd her heaving breast.
Sometimes a sigh half-smother'd stole away;
Then she would "Strephon, charming Strephon,"
say.
Sometimes she, smiling, cry'd, "You love, 'ths
true;
But will you always, and be faithful too?"
The glorious fabric charm'd my wondering sight; Ten thousand graces play'd about her face;
To kindle eager longings for the joy;
To move the slow, and to incline the coy.
Of vast extent, and of prodigious height:
The case was marble, but the polish'd stone
With such an admirable lustre shone,
Ten thousand charms attending every grace:
Each admirable feature did impart
A secret rapture to my throbbing heart.
The nymph imprison'd in the brazen tower,
When Jove descended in a golden shower,
Less beautiful appear'd, and yet her eyes
Brought down that god from the neglected skies.
So moving, so transporting was the sight,
So much a goddess Delia seem'd, so bright,
My ravish'd soul, with secret wonder fraught,
Lay all dissolv'd in ecstasy of thought.
Long time I gaz'd: but, as I trembling drew
Nearer, to make a more obliging view,
It thunder'd loud, and the ungrateful noise
Wak'd me, and put an end to all my joys.
As Strephon, in a wither'd cypress shade,
For anxious thought and sighing lovers made,
Revolving lay upon his wretched state,
And the hard usage of too partial Fate;
Thus the sad youth complain'd: "Once happy swain,
Now the most abject shepherd of the plain!
Where's that harmonious concert of delights,
Those peaceful days, and pleasurable nights,
That generous mirth and noble jollity,
Which gaily made the dancing minutes flee?
Dispers'd and banish'd from my troubled breast;
Nor leave me one short interval of rest.
"Why do I prosecute a hopeless flame,
And play in torment such a losing game?
All things conspire to make my ruin sure:
When wounds are mortal, they admit no cure.
But Heaven sometimes does a miraculous thing,
When our last hope is just upon the wing;
And in a moment drives those clouds away,
Whose sullen darkness hid a glorious day.
"Why was I born, or why do I survive;
To be made wretched only, kept alive?
Fate is too cruel in the harsh decree,
That I must live, yet live in misery.
Are all its pleasing happy moments gone?
Must Strephon be unfortunate alone?
On other swains it lavishly bestows;
On them each nymph neglected favour throws:
They meet compliance still in every face,
And lodge their passions in a kind embrace;
Obtaining from the soft incurious maid
True love for counterfeit, and gold for lead.
Success on Mævius always does attend;
Inconstant Fortune is his constant friend:
He levels blindly, yet the mark does hit;
And owes the victory to chance, not wit.
But, let him conquer ere one blow be struck;
I'd not be Mævius, to have Mævius's luck.
Proud of my fate, I would not change my chains
For all the trophies purring Mævius gains;
But rather still live Delia's slave, than be
Like Mævius silly, and like Mævius free.
But he is happy, loves the common road,
And, pack-horse like, jogs on beneath his load.
If Phyllis peevish or unkind does prove,
It ne'er disturbs his grave mechanic love.
A little joy his languid flame contents,
And makes him easy under all events.
But when a passion 's noble and sublime,
And higher still would every moment climb,
If 't is accepted with a just return,
The fire 's immortal, will for ever burn;
And with such raptures fills the lover's breast,
That saints in Paradise are scarce more blest.
"But I lament my miseries in vain;
For Delia hears me, pitiless, complain.
Suppose she pities, and believes me true,
What satisfaction can from thence accrue,
Unless her pity makes her love me too?
Perhaps she loves (t is but perhaps, I fear,
For that 's a blessing can 't be bought too dear)
If she has scruples that oppose her will,
I must, alas! be miserable still.
Though, if she loves, those scruples soon will fly
Before the reasoning of the deity:
For, where Love enters, he will rule alone,
And suffer no co-partner in his throne;
And those false arguments, that would repel
His high injunctions, teach us to rebel.
"What method can poor Strephou then propound,
To cure the bleed.ng of his fatal wound,
If she, who guided the vexatious dart,
Resolves to cherish and increase the smart?
Go, youth, from these unhappy plains remove,
Leave the pursuit of unsuccessful love:
Go, and to foreign swains thy griefs relate,
Tell them the cruelty of frowning Fate;
Tell them the noble charms of Delia's mind,
Tell them how fair, but tell them how unkind.
And when few years thou hast in sorrow spent,
(For sure they cannot be of large extent)
In prayers for her thou lov'st, resign thy breath,
And bless the minute gives thee ease and death."
Here paus'd the swain-when Delia, driving by Her bleating flock to some fresh pasture nigh, By Love directed, did her steps convey Where Strephon, wrapp'd in silent sorrow, lay. As soon as he perceiv'd the beauteous maid, He rose to meet her, and thus, trembling, said: "When humble suppliants would the gods ap
And in severe afflictions beg for ease,
With constant importunity they sue,
And their petitions every day renew;
Grow still more earnest as they are deny'd,
Nor one well-weigh'd expedient leave untry'd,
Till Heaven those blessings they enjoy'd before,
Not only does return, but gives them more.
"O, do not blame me, Delia! if I press
So much, and with impatience, for redress.
My pond'rous griefs no ease my soul allow;
For they are next t' intolerable now:
How shall I then support them, when they grow
To an excess, to a distracting woe?
Since you 're endow'd with a celestial mind,
Relieve like Heaven, and like the gods be kind.
Did you perceive the torments I endure,
Which you first caus'd, and you alone can cure,
They would your virgin soul to pity move,
And pity may at last be chang'd to love.
Some swains, I own, impose upon the fair,
And lead the incautious maid into a snare;
But let them suffer for their perjury,
And do not punish others' crimes with me.
If there's so many of our sex untrue,
Yours should more kindly use the faithful few;
Though innocence too oft incurs the fate
Of guilt, and clears itself sometimes too late.
Your nature is to tenderness inclin'd;
And why to me, to me alone unkind?
|