See through these veins the sapphire current shine! 'Twas Jove's own nectar gave th' ethereal hue: Can base plebeian forms contend with mine? Display the lovely white, or match the blue? The painter strove to trace its azure ray; He chang'd his colours, and in vain he strove ; He frown'd-I smiling view'd the faint essay; Poor youth! he little knew it flow'd from Jove. Pitying his toil, the wondrous truth I told; How amorous Jove trepann'd a mortal fair ; How through the race the generous current roll'd, And mock'd the poet's art, and painter's care. Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, sprung My godlike boy, must wed their duteous maid. My sire's dread fury murmurs through the sky; And should I yield--his instant rage appears; He darts th' uplifted vengeance, and I die. Have you not heard unwonted thunders roll! Have you not seen more horrid lightnings glare! 'Twas then a vulgar love ensnar'd my soul: 'Twas then-I hardly scap'd the fatal snare. ; 'Twas then a peasant pour'd his amorous vow, But oh! I faint! why wastes my vernal bloom, When last I slept, methought my ravish'd eye, O how this bosom kindled at the sight! Led by their beams I urg'd the pleasing chase! Till, on a sudden, these with held their lightAll, all things envy thy sublime embrace. But now no more-behind the distant grove, Wanders my destin'd youth, and chides my stay: Scornful she spoke, and heedless of reply, Ah me! the victim of her proud disdain! E LEG Y. Describing the sorrow of an ingenuous mind, on the melancholy events of a licentious amour. WHY mourns my friend! why weeps his downcast eye! That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to shine? Art thou not lodg'd in fortune's warm embrace? That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair? Damon, said he, thy partial praise restrain ; Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore; And my poor wounded bosom bleeds the more. But led by fortune's hand, her darling child, Ah vices! gilded by the rich and gay! School'd in the science of love's mazy wiles, Then, while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care, To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest? Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine. Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame ; "Henry, she said, by thy dear form subdued, Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry, When will the morn's once pleasing scenes return? Yet what can morn's returning ray supply, But foes that triumph, or but friends that mourn! Alas! no more that joyous morn appears That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame; For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, And ting'd a mother's glowing cheek with shame. The vocal birds that raise their matin strain, If through the garden's flowery tribes I stray For we are spotless, Jessy; we are pure. Ye flowers that well reproach a nymph so frail ; Now the grave old alarm the gentler young; And all my fame's abhorr'd contagion flee; Lest my sad fate should nourish pangs for Be but my friend; I ask no dearer name; Be such the meed of some more artful fair; Force not my tongue to ask its scanty bread; VOL. IV. Haply, when age has silver'd o'er my hair, And pity, welcome, to my native soil." She spoke nor was I born of savage race; Nor could these hands a niggard boon assign; Grateful she clasp'd me in a last embrace, And vow'd to waste her life in pray'rs for mine. I saw her foot the lofty bark ascend; I saw her breast with every passion heave; I left her-torn from every earthly friend; Oh! my hard bosom, which could bear to leave! Brief let me be; the fatal storm arose ; The billows rag'd, the pilot's art was vain ; O'er the tall mast the circling surges close; My Jessy-floats upon the watery plain! And see my youth's impetuous fires decay; Seek not to stop reflection's bitter tear; But warn the frolic, and instruct the gay, From Jessy floating on her watery bier! ODE TO MEMORY. O MEMORY! celestial maid! Who glean'st the flowerets cropt by time; And suffering not a leaf to fade, Preserv'st the blossoms of our prime; Bring, bring those moments to my mind And bring that garland to my sight, With which my favour'd crook she bound; And to my raptur'd ear convey The gentle things she deign'd to say. |