T is not that I love you lefs,
Than when before your feet I lay:
But, to prevent the fad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away.
In vain, alas! for every thing,
Which I have known belong to you,
Your form does to my fancy bring,
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.
Who in the spring, from the new fun
Already has a fever got,
Too late begins thofe fhafts to fhun,
Which Phoebus through his veins has shot:
Too late he would the pain asswage,
And to thick fhadows does retire:
About with him he bears the rage,
And in his tainted blood the fire.
But vow'd I have, and never must Your banish'd fervant trouble you: mistrust
For if I break, you may
The vow I made to love you too.
Tell her that wastes her time, and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How fweet, and fair, she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spy'd,
That hadft thou sprung
In deferts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended dy'd.
Small is the worth
Of beauty, from the light retir'd:
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be defir'd,
And not blufh fo to be admir'd.
Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee:
How small a part of time they share,
That are fo wondrous fweet and far!
S lately I on filver Thames did ride,
Sad Galatea on the bank I spy'd:
Such was her look as forrow taught to fhine;
And thus fhe grac'd me with a voice divine.
You that can tune your founding ftrings fo well,
Of Ladies' beauties, and of love to tell,
Once change your note; and let your lute report
The juftest grief that ever touch'd the Court.
Fair nymph! I have in your delights no share;
Nor ought to be concerned in your care;
Yet would I fing, if I your forrows knew;
And to my aid invoke no Muse but you.
Hear then, and let your fong augment our grief, Which is fo great, as not to wish relief.
She that had all which nature gives, or chance;
Whom fortune join'd with virtue to advance
To all the joys this island could afford,
The greatest Mistress, and the kindest Lord :
Who with the royal, mixt her noble, blood;
And in high grace with Gloriana stood:
Her bounty, fweetness, beauty, goodnefs, fuch,
That none e'er thought her happiness too much :
So well inclin'd her favours to confer,
And kind to all, as Heaven had been to her!
The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife,
So well she acted in the span of life,
That though few years (too few alas !) she told,
She feem'd in all things, but in beauty, old.
As unripe fruit, whofe verdant stalks do cleave
Close to the tree, which grieves no lefs to leave
The smiling pendant which adorns her fo,
And until autumn, on the bough should grow
So feem'd her youthful foul not eafily forc'd,
Or from fo fair, so sweet, a feat divorc'd.
Her fate at once did hasty seem, and flow;
At once too cruel, and unwilling too.
Under how hard a law are mortals born!
Whom now we envy, we anon must mourn :
What Heaven fets higheft, and feems moft to prize,
Is foon removed from our wondering eyes!
But fince the Sifters did fo foon untwine
So fair a thread, I'll ftrive to piece the line.
Vouchsafe, fad nymph! to let me know the dame,
And to the Mufes I'll commend her name:
Make the wide country echo to your moan,
The liftening trees, and favage mountains, groan;
What rock's not moved when the death is fung
Of one fo good, fo lovely, and so young?
'Twas Hamilton!-whom I had nam'd before, But naming her, grief lets me fay no more.
O we fome antique Hero's strength
Learn by his lance's weight, and length;
As these vaft beams express the beast,
Whofe fhady brows alive they dreft.
Such game, while yet the world was new,
The mighty Nimrod did pursue.
What huntsman of our feeble race,
Or dogs, dare fuch a monfter chafe?
Refembling, with each blow he strikes,
The charge of a whole troop of pikes.
O fertile head! which every year
Could fuch a crop of wonder bear!
The teeming earth did never bring,
So foon, so hard, so huge a thing:
Which might it never have been cast,
(Each year's growth added to the last)
Thefe lofty branches had supply'd
The Earth's bold fons' prodigious pride :
Heaven with thefe engines had been scal'd,
When mountains heap'd on mountains fail'd.
|