Thus exil'd Chalcas, thus the bard of Thrace,
Melodious tamer. of the savage race!
Thus train'd by temp'rance, Homer led of yore,
His chief of Ithaca from shore to shore,
Through magic Circe's monster-peopled reign,
And shoals insidious with the siren train;
And through the realms, where grizzly sceptres dwell,
Whose tribes he fetter'd in a gory spell;
For these are sacred bards, and from above,
Drink large infusions from the mind of Jove!
Would'st thou (perhaps 'tis hardly worth thine ear)
Would'st thou be told my occupation here ?
The promis'd King of peace employs my pen,
Th' eternal cov'nant made for guilty men,
The new-born Deity with infant cries
Filling the sordid hovel, where he lies;
The hymning angels, and the herald star,
That led the Wise, who sought him from afar,
And idols on their own unhallow'd shore
Dash'd at his birth, to be rever'd no more!
This theme on reeds of Albion 1 rehearse : The dawn of that blest day inspir'd the verse ; Verse, that, reserv'd in secret, shall attend Thy candid voice, my critic, and my friend!
Composed in the Author's Nineteenth Year.
As yet a stranger to the gentle fires,
That Amathusia's smiling queen inspires,
Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts,
And scorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts.
"Go, child," I said, "transfix the tim'rous dove!
An easy conquest suits an infant love;
Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall be
Sufficient triumph to a chief like thee!
Why aim thine idle arms at human kind?
Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind."
The Cyprian heard, and, kindling into ire, (None kindles sooner) burn'd with double fire.
It was the spring, and newly risen day
Peep'd o'er the hamlets on the first of May;
My eyes too tender for the blaze of light,
Still sought the shelter of retiring night,
When Love approach'd, in painted plumes array'd;
Th' insidious god his rattling darts betray'd,
Nor less his infant features, and the sly,
Sweet intimations of his threat'ning eye.
Such the Sigeian boy is seen above, Filling the goblet for imperial Jove ;
Such he, on whom the nymphs bestow'd their charms, Hylas, who perish'd in a Naiad's arms.
Angry he seem'd, yet graceful in his ire,
And added threats, not destitute of fire,
"My power," he said, " by others pain alone,
"Twere best to learn; now learn it by thy own!
With those, who feel my power, that pow'r attest!
And in thy anguish be my sway confest!
I vanquish'd Phoebus, though returning vain
From his new triumph o'er the Python slain,
And, when he thinks on Daphne, even he
Will yield the prize of archery to me.
A dart less true the Parthian horseman sped,
Behind him kill'd, and conquer'd as he fled :
Less true th' expert Cydonian, and less true
The youth, whose shaft his latent Procris slew.
·Vanquish'd by me see huge Orion bend,
By me Alcides, and Alcides' friend.
At me should Jove himself a bolt design,
His bosom first should bleed tranfixt by mine.
But all thy doubts this shaft will best explain,
Nor shall it reach thee with a trivial pain,
Thy Muse, vain youth! shall not thy peace ensure, Nor Phoebus' serpent yield thy wound a cure."
He spoke, and, waving a bright shaft in air, Sought the warm bosom of the Cyprian fair.
That thus a child should bluster in my ear,
Provok'd my laughter, more than mov'd my fear.
I shunn'd not, therefore, public haunts, but stray'd
Careless in city, or suburban shade,
And passing, and repassing, nymphs, that mov'd
With grace divine, beheld where'er I rov'd.
Bright shone the vernal day, with double blaze,
As beauty gave new force to Phœbus' rays.
By no grave scruples check'd, I freely eyed
The dang rous show, rash youth my only guide,
And many a look of many a fair unknown
Met full, unable to controul my own.
But one I mark'd (then peace forook my breast)
One-Oh how far superior to the rest!
What lovely features! such the Cyprian queen
Herself might wish, and Juno wish her mien.
The very nymph was she, whom when I dar'd
His arrows, Love had even then prepar❜d!
Nor was himself remote, nor unsupplied
With torch well-trimm'd, and quiver at his side ;
Now to her lips he clung, her eye-lids now,
Then settled on her cheeks, or on her brow,
And with a thousand wounds from ev'ry part
Pierc'd, and transpierc'd, my undefended heart.
A fever, new to me, of fierce desire
Now siez'd my soul, and I was all on fire,
But she, the while, whom only I adore,
Was gone, and vanish'd, to appear no more.
In silent sadness I pursue my way;
I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay,
And while I follow her in thought, bemoan
With tears, my soul's delight so quickly fown.
When Jove had hurl'd him to the Lemnian coast,
So Vulcan sorrow'd for Olympus lost,
And so Oeclides, sinking into night,
From the deep gulph look'd up to distant light.
Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remain, Who cannot cease to love, yet love in vain ? Oh could I once, once more behold the fair, Speak to her, tell her, of the pangs I bear, Perhaps she is not adamant, would show Perhaps some pity at my tale of woe. Oh inauspicious flame-tis mine to prove A matchless instance of disastrous love. Ah spare me, gentle pow'r !-If such thou be, Let not thy deeds, and nature disagree. Spare me, and I will worship at no shrine With vow and sacrifice, save only thine.
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