Nor more, ye streams! with murm'ring music flow,
And let not groves a friendly shade bestow:
With sympathizing grief let Nature mourn,
And never know the youthful Spring's return:
And shall I never more Alexis see?
Then what is spring, or grove, or stream to me.
Why sport the skipping lambs on yonder plain?
Why do the birds their tunef il voices strain?
Why frisk those heifers in the cooling grove?
Their happier life is ignorant of love.
Oh! lead me to some melancholy cave,
To lull my sorrows in a living grave;
From the dark rock where dashing waters fall,
And creeping ivy hangs the craggy wall,
Where I may waste in tears my hours away,
And never know the seasons or the day.
Die, die, Panthea!---fly this hateful grove,
For what is life without the swain I love ?
Now Phoebus rose, and with his early beams
Wak'd slumb'ring Delia from her pleasing dreams;
Her wishes by her fancy were supply'd,
And in her sleep the nuptial knot was ty'd,
With secret joy she saw the morning ray
Chequer the floor, and thro' the curtains play;
The happy morn that shall her bliss complete,
And all her rivals' envious hopes defeat.
In haste she rose, forgetful of her prayers,
Flew to the glass, and practis'd o'er her airs;
Her new-set jewels round her robe are plac'd,
Some in a brilliant buckle bind her waist,
Some round her neck a circling light display,
Some in her hair diffuse a trembling ray:
The silver knot o'erlooks the Mechlen lace,
And adds becoming beauties to her face;
Brocaded flow'rs o'er the gay mantua shine,
And the rich stays her taper shape confine:
Thus all her dress exerts a graceful pride,
And sporting Love surround th' expecting bride,
For Daphnis now attends the blushing maid,
Before the priest their solemn vows are paid;
This day, which ends at once all Delia's cares,
Shall swell a thousand eyes with tears."
Cease, Araminta! 'tis in vain to grieve,
Canst thou from Hymen's bonds the youth retrieve ? Disdain his perj'ries, and no longer mourn;
Recall my love, and find a sure return.
But still the wretched maid no comfort knows
And with resentment cherishes her woes:
Alone she pines, and in these mournful strains
Of Daphnis' vows and her own fate complains.
Was it for this I sparkl'd at the play,
And loitter'd in the ring whole hours away?
When if thy charriot in the circle shone,
Our mutual passion by our looks was known;
Thro' the gay crowd my watchful glances fiew,
Where'er I pass thy grateful eyes pursue.
Ah! faithless Youth! too well you saw my pain, For eyes the language of the soul explain.
Think, Daphnis! think, that scarce five days are fled, Since (O false tongue!) those treach'rous things you How did you praise my shape and graceful air! [said; And woman thinks all compliments sincere. Didst thou not then in rapture speak thy flame, And in soft sighs breathe Araminta's name? Didst thou not then with oaths thy passion prove, And with an awful trembling say---I love?
Ah! faithless Youth! too well you saw my pain, For eyes the language of the soul explain.
How couldst thou thus, ungrateful Youth! deceive? How could I thus, unguarded Maid! believe? Sure thou canst well recall that fatal night, When subtle love first enter'd at my sight. When in the dance I was thy partner chose, Gods! what a rapture in my bosom rose! My trembling hand my sudden joy confess'd, My glowing cheeks a wounded heart express'd;
My looks spoke love; while you, with answ'ring eyes,
In killing glances made as kind replies.
Think, Daphnis! think what tender things you said,
Think what confusion all my soul betray'd.
You call'd my graceful presence Cynthia's air,
And when I sung, the Syrens charm'd your ear:
My flame blown up by flatt'ry stronger grew,
A gale of love in ev'ry whisper flew.
Ah! faithless Youth! too well you saw my pain, For eyes the language of the soul explain.
Whene'er I dress'd, my maid, who knew my flame, Cherish'd my passion with thy lovely name; Thy picture in her talk so lively grew, That thy dear image rose before my view:
She dwelt whole hours upon thy shape and mien,
And wounded Delia's fame to sooth my spleen:
When she beheld me at the name grow pale,
Straight to thy charms she chang'd her artful tale;
And when thy matchless charms were quite run o'er,
I bid her tell the pleasing tale once more.
Oh! Daphnis! from thy Araminta fled !
Oh! to my love for ever, ever dead!
Like death, his nuptials all my hope remove,
And ever part me from the man I love.
Ah! faithless Youth! too well you saw my pain,
For eyes the language of the soul explain.
O might I by my cruel fate be known
In some retreat far from this hateful town!
Vain Dress, and glaring Equipage! adieu;
Let happier nymphs those empty shows pursue,
Me let some melancholy shade surround,
Where not the print of human step is found.
In thy gay dance my feet no more shall move,
But bear me faintly thro' the lonely grove;
No more these hands shall o'er the spinet bound,
And from the sleeping string call forth the sound:
Music! adieu; farewell, Italian airs!
The croaking raven now shall sooth my cares.
On some old ruin lost in thought I rest,
And think how Araminta once was blest;
There o'er and o'er thy letters I peruse,
And all my grief in one kind sentence lose:
Some tender line by chance my woe beguiles,
And on my cheek a short-liv'd pleasure smiles.
Why is this dawn of joy? flow, tears again;
Vain are these oaths, and all these vows are vain:
Daphnis, alas! the Gordian knot has ty'd,
Nor force nor cunning can the band divide.
Ah! faithless Youth! since eyes the soul explain, Why knew I not that artful tongue could feign? 108
SHOCK's fate I mourn; poor Shock is now no more;
Ye Muses! mourn; ye Chambermaids! deplore.
Unhappy Shock! yet more unhappy fair,
Doom'd to survive thy joy and only care.
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