HEN firft upon your tender cheek
I saw the morn of beauty break
With mild and chearing beam,
I bow'd before your infant fhrine,
The earliest fighs you had were mine,
And you my darling theme.
I faw you in that opening morn
For beautys boundless empire born,
And firft confefs'd your fway;
And ere your thoughts, devoid of art,
Could learn the value of a heart,
I gave my heart away.
I watch'd the dawn of every grace,
And gaz'd upon that angel face,
While yet 'twas safe to gaze;
And fondly blefs'd each rifing charm,
Nor thought fuch innocence could harm
The peace of future days.
But now defpotic o'er the plains
The aweful noon of beauty reigns,
And kneeling crouds adore;
These charms arife too fiercely bright,
Danger and death attend the fight,
And I muft hope no more.
Thus to the rifing god of day
Their early vows the Perfians pay,
And bless the spreading fire;
Whofe glowing chariot mounting foon
Pours on their heads the burning noon,
They ficken and expire.
HEN firft I faw thee graceful move,
Ah me! what meant my throbbing breast?
Say, foft confufion, art thou love?
If love thou art, then farewell rest!
Since doom'd I am to love thee, fair,
Though hopeless of a warm return,
Yet kill me not with cold defpair;
But let me live, and let me burn.
With gentle smiles affwage the pain
Those gentle smiles did first create:
And, though you cannot love again,
In pity, oh! forbear to hate.
O! would your pity give my heart
One corner of your breast;
"Twould learn of yours the winning art,
And quickly fteal the rest.
LMERIAS face, her fhape, her air,
With charms refiftlefs wound the heart;
you for defence prepare,
When from her eyes Love throws his dart.
So ftrong, fo fwift the arrow flies,
Such fure deftruction flying makes ;
The bold oppofer quickly dies!
The fugitive it overtakes!
Nor ftratagem, nor force avails,
No feign'd fubmiffion fets you free;
One look o'er all your art prevails,
There's no way fafe but not to fee!
For fuch the magic of her arms,
And wounding she does fo allure; The unexperienc'd court their harms; The wounded never wish a cure.
H gaze not on those eyes! forbear
That foft inchanting voice to hear:
Not looks of bafilisks give furer death,
Not Syrens fing with more destructive breath.
Fly, if thy freedom thou'dft maintain.
Alas! I feel, th' advice is vain!
A heart, whose safety but in flight does lie,
Is too far loft to have the pow'r to fly.
H! forbear to bid me flight her,
Soul and fenfes take her part;
Could my death itself delight her,
Life should leap, to leave my heart.
Strong, though foft, a lovers chain,
Charm'd with woe, and pleas'd with pain.
Though the tender flame were dying,
Love would light it, at her eyes;
Or, her tuneful voice applying,
Through my ear, my foul surprise.
Deaf, I fee the fate I fhun;
Blind, I hear I am undone.
HILE from my looks, fair nymph, you guess
The fecret paffions of my mind,
My heavy eyes, you fay, confefs
A heart to love and grief inclin'd.
There needs, alas! but little art
To have this fatal fecret found; With the fame eafe you threw the dart 'Tis certain you may show the wound.
|