Yet in his empire o'er thy abject breast,
His flames and torments only are expreft:
His rage can in my fmiles alone relent;
And all his joys folicit my confent.
Soft love, fpontaneous tree, its parted root Muft from two hearts with equal vigour fhoot: Whilft each delighted, and delighting gives The pleasing ecstacy, which each receives: Cherish'd with hope, and fed with joy, it grows: Its chearful buds their opening bloom difclofe; And round the happy foil diffusive odour flows. If angry fate that mutual care denies; The fading plant bewails its due fupplies; Wild with defpair, or fick with grief, it dies. By force beafts act, and are by force restrain'd: The human mind by gentle means is gain'd. Thy ufelefs ftrength, mistaken king, employ: Sated with rage, and ignorant of joy, Thou shalt not gain what I deny to yield; Nor reap the harvest, though thou spoil'ft the field. Know, Solomon, thy poor extent of sway; Contract thy brow, and Ifrael shall obey: But wilful Love thou must with smiles appeafe; Approach his awful throne by juft degrees; And, if thou would't be happy, learn to please. Not that thofe arts can here successful prove; For I am deftin'd for another's love.
Beyond the cruel bounds of thy command,
To my dear equal in my native land,
My plighted vow I gave: I his receiv'd:
Each swore with truth, with pleasure each believ'd.
The mutual contract was to Heaven convey'd :
In equal fcales the bufy angels weigh'd
Its folemn force, and clap'd their wings, and spread
The lasting roll, recording what we said.
Now in my heart behold thy poniard stain❜d;
Take the fad life which I have long difdain'd;
End, in a dying virgin's wretched fate,
Thy ill-ftar'd paffion, and my stedfast hate.
For long as blood informs these circling veins,
Or fleeting breath its latest power retains ;
Hear me to Egypt's vengeful Gods declare.
Hate is my part: be thine, O King, despair.
Now ftrike, she said, and open'd bare her breast;
Stand it in Judah's chronicles confeft,
That David's fon, by impious paffion mov'd,
Smote a fhe-flave, and murder'd what he lov'd!
Afham'd, confus'd, I ftarted from the bed,
And to my foul yet uncollected, faid:
Into thyfelf, fond Solomon, return;
Reflect again, and thou again shalt mourn.
When I through number'd years have Pleasure fought,
And in vain hope the wanton phantom caught;
To mock my sense, and mortify my pride,
"Tis in another's power, and is deny'd.
Am I a king, great Heaven! does life or death
Hang on the wrath, or mercy of my breath;
While kneeling I my fervant's fmiles implore;
And one mad damfel dares dispute my power?
To ravish her! that thought was foon deprefs'd,
Which muft debafe the monarch to the beast.
To fend her back! O whither, and to whom?
To lands where Solomon muft never come?
To that infulting rival's happy arms,
For whom, difdaining me, the keeps her charms?
Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart;
How hard thy yoke! how cruel is thy dart !
Those 'scape thy anger, who refuse thy sway;
And thofe are punish'd most, who most obey.
See Judah's king revere thy greater power:
What canst thou covet, or how triumph more?
Why then, O Love, with an obdurate ear
Does this proud nymph reject a monarch's prayer?
Why to fome fimple fhepherd does fhe run,
From the fond arms of David's favourite fon?
Why flies she from the glories of a court,
Where wealth and pleasure may thy reign fupport,
To fome poor cottage on the mountain's brow,
Now bleak with winds, and cover'd now with fnow;
Where pinching want must curb her warm defires,
And houshold cares fupprefs thy genial fires?
Too aptly the afflicted heathens prove
Thy force, while they erect the fhrines of Love,
His myftic form the artizans of Greece
In wounded ftone, or molten gold, exprefs:
And Cyprus to his godhead pays her vow:
Faft in his hand the idol holds his bow:
A quiver by his fide fuftains his ftore
Of pointed darts; fad emblems of his power:
A pair of wings he has, which he extends
Now to be gone; which now again he bends
Prone to return, as beft may ferve his wanton ends.
Entirely thus I find the fiend pourtray'd,
Since firft, alas! I faw the beauteous maid:
I felt him ftrike; and now I fee him fly:
Curs'd Dæmon! O! for ever broken lie
Thofe fatal fhafts, by which I inward bleed!
O! can my wishes yet o'ertake thy speed!
Tir'd may'st thou pant, and hang thy flagging wing:
Except thou turn'ft thy course, refolv'd to bring
The damfel back, and fave the love-fick king!
My foul thus ftruggling in the fatal net,
Unable to enjoy, or to forget;
I reafon'd much, alas! but more I lov'd;
Sent and recall'd, ordain'd, and disapprov'd;
"Till, hopeless, plung'd in an abyss of,grief,
I from neceffity receiv'd relief:
Time gently aided to affwage my pain;
And Wifdom took once more the flacken'd rein.
But O how fhort my interval of woe!
Our griefs how swift! our remedies how flow!
Another nymph (for fo did Heaven ordain,
To change the manner, but renew the pain)
Another nymph, amongst the many fair,
That made my fofter hours their folemn care,
Before the reft affected well to ftand;
And watch'd my eye, preventing my command.
Abra, fhe fo was call'd, did foonest hafte
To grace my presence; Abra went the last:
Abra was ready ere I call'd her name;
And, though I call'd another, Abra came.
Her equals firft obferv'd her growing zeal;
And laughing glofs'd, that Abra ferv'd fo well.
To me her actions did unheeded die,
Or were remark'd but with a common eye;
'Till, more appriz'd of what the rumour said,
More I obferv'd peculiar in the maid.
The fun declin'd had fhot his western ray;
When, tir'd with business of the folemn day,
I purpos'd to unbend the evening hours,
And banquet private in the women's bowers.
I call'd before I fat to wash my hands:
(For fo the precept of the law commands):
Love had ordain'd, that it was Abra's turn
To mix the fweets, and minifter the urn.
With awful homage, and fubmiffive dread,
The maid approach'd, on my declining head
Το
pour
the oils fhe trembled as the pour'd;
With an unguarded look fhe now devour'd
My nearer face; and now recall'd her eye,
And heav'd, and strove to hide a fudden figh.
And whence, faid I, canft thou have dread, or pain?
What can thy imagery of forrow mean?
Secluded from the world, and all its care,
Haft thou to grieve or joy, to hope or fear?
For fure, I added, fure thy little heart
Ne'er felt Love's anger, nor receiv'd his dart.
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