And robb'd of darts, and stript of pow'r,
Thy peevish petulance decrease.
Sleep on, poor Child! whilst I withdraw,
And this thy vile artill`ry hide-
When the Castalian fount she saw,
And plung'd his arrows in the tide.
That magic fount-ill-judging maid!
Shall cause you soon to curse the day
You dar'd the shafts of Love invade,
And
gave
his arms redoubled sway.
For in a stream so wondrous clear,
When angry Cupid searches round,
Will not the radiant points appear ?
Will not the furtive spoils be found?
Too soon they were; and ev'ry dart,
Dipp'd in the Muse's mystic spring,
Acquir'd new force to wound the heart,
And taught at once to love and sing.
Then farewell, ye Pierian quire!
For who will now your altars throng?
From love we learn to swell the lyre,
And Echo asks no sweeter song.
Urit spes animi credula mutui?
Fond hope of a reciprocal desire
Inflames the breast.
'Twas not by beauty's aid alone That Love usurp'd his airy throne, His boasted pow'r display'd;
'Tis kindness that secures his aim,
'Tis hope that feeds the kindling flame, Which beauty first convey'd.
In Clara's eyes the lightnings view;
Her lips, with all the rose's hue
Have all its sweets combin'd;
Yet vain the blush, and faint the fire,
Till lips at once, and eyes, conspire
To prove the charmer kind-
Tho' wit might gild the tempting snare
With softest accent, sweetest air,
By envy's self admir'd;
If Lesbia's wit betray'd her scorn,
In vain might ev'ry Grace adorn
What ev'ry Muse inspir'd.
Thus airy Strephon tun'd his lyre—
He scorn'd the pangs of wild desire,
Which lovesick swains endure;
Resolv'd to brave the keenest dart,
Since frowns could never wound his heart,
And smiles-must ever cure.
But, ah! how false these maxims prove,
How frail security from love
Experience hourly shows!
Love can imagin'd smiles supply,
On ev'ry charming lip and eye
Eternal sweets bestows.
In vain we trust the fair one's eyes;
In vain the sage explores the skies,
To learn from stars his fate;
Till led by fancy wide astray,
He finds no planet mark his way;
Convinc'd and wise too late.
As partial to their words we prove,
Then boldly join the lists of love,
With tow'ring hopes supply'd:
So heroes, taught by doubtful shrines,
Mistook their deity's designs,
Then took the field—and dy’d.,
ON fair Asteria's blissful plains,
Where ever-blooming Fancy reigns,
How pleas'd we pass the winter's day,
And charm the dull-ey'd Spleen away !
No linnet, from the leafless bough,
Pours forth her note melodious now,
But all admire Asteria's tongue,
Nor wish the linnet's vernal song.
No flow'rs emit their transient rays;
Yet sure Asteria's wit displays
More various tints, more glowing lines,
And with perennial beauty shines.
Tho' rifled groves and fetter'd streams
But ill befriend a poet's dreams,
Asteria's presence wakes the lyre,
And well supplies poetic fire.
The fields have lost their lovely dye,
No cheerful azure decks the sky,
Yet still we bless the louring day;
Asteria smiles-and all is gay.
Hence let the Muse no more presume
To blame the winter's dreary gloom,
Accuse his loit'ring hours no more,
But, ah! their envious haste deplore.
For soon from Wit and Friendship's reign,
The social hearth, the sprightly vein,
I go-to meet the coming year
On savage plains and deserts drear!
I go-to feed on pleasures flown,
Nor find the spring my loss atone;
But 'mid the flow'ry sweets of May
With pride recall this winter's day.
O MEMORY! celestial maid!
Who glean'st the flow'rets cropp'd by time,
And, suff'ring not a leaf to fade,
Preserv'st the blossoms of our prime,
Bring, bring those moments to my mind
When life was new and Lesbia kind.
And bring that garland to my sight
With which my favour'd crook she bound,
And bring that wreath of roses bright
Which then my festive temples crown'd,
And to my raptur'd ear convey
The gentle things she deign'd to say.
|