Free to herself my potent mind remains,
Nor fears the victor's rage, nor feels his chains.
'Tis faid that thou canft plaufibly dispute,
Supreme of feers, of angel, man, and brute;
Canft plead, with fubtle wit and fair discourse,
Of paffion's folly and of reason's force ;
That to the tribes attentive, thou canst know
Whence their misfortunes or their bleffings flow:
That thou in fcience as in pow'r art great,
And truth and honour on thy edicts wait.
Where is that knowledge now, that regal thought,
With just advice and timely counsel fraught?
Where now, O Judge of Ifrael, does it rove?-
What in one moment doft thou offer?-Love!
Love? why, 'tis joy or forrow, peace or ftrife;
'Tis all the colour of remaining life,
And human mis'ry muft begin or end
As he becomes a tyrant or a friend.
Would David's fon, religious, just, and grave,
To the first bride-bed of the world receive
A foreigner, a Heathen, and a flave?
Or, grant thy paffion has these names deftroy'd,
That Love, like Death, makes all diftinction void,
Yet in his empire o'er thy abject breat
His flames and torments only are expreft,
His rage can in my smiles alone relènt,
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 pleafing ecftafy which each receives:
Cherifh'd with hope, and fed with joy, it grows,
Its cheerful buds their op'ning bloom disclose,
And round the happy foil diffufive 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 reftrain'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 harveft, tho' thou fpoil'ft the field.
Know, Solomon, thy poor extent of sway;
Contract thy brow, and Ifr'el shall obey;
But wilful Love thou muft with fmiles appeafe,
Approach his awful throne by juft degrees,
And if thou wouldst be happy, learn to please.
Not that thofe arts can here fuccefsful prove,
For I am deftin'd to 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 heav'n convey'd ;
In equal fcales the bufy angels weigh'd
Its folemn force, and clapp'd their wings, and fpread
The lafting roll, recording what we faid.
Now in my heart behold thy poniard ftain'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 ftedfast hate:
For long as blood informs thefe circling veins,
Or fleeting breath'its lateft pow'r retains,
Hear me to Egypt's vengeful gods declare
Hate is my part; be thine O King despair.
Now ftrike, the said, and open'd bare her breast,
Stand it in Judah's Chronicles confett
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, 290
And to my foul, yet uncollected, said,
Into thyself fond Solomon return;
Reflect again, and thou again shalt mourn.
When I thro' number'd years have pleasure fought,
And in vain hope the wanton phantom caught, 295
To mock my fenfe and mortify my pride,
'Tis in another's pow'r and is deny'd.
Am I a king, great Heav'n? 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 difpute my pow'r ?
To ravish her? that thought was foon deprefs'd,
Which must debafe the monarch to the beaft.
To fend her back? O whither, and to whom?
To lands where Solomon must never come?
To that infulting rival's happy arms
For whom, difdaining me, the keeps her charms?
Fantastic tyrant of the am'rous heart,
How hard thy yoke! how cruel is thy dart?
Thofe 'fcape thy anger who refufe thy fway,
And thofe are punish'd most who most obey,
See Judah's king revere thy greater pow'r;
What canft thou covet, or how triumph more;
Why, then, O Love, with an obdurate ear,
Does this proud nymph reject a monarch's pray'r?
Why to fome fimple fhepherd does the run
From the fond arms of David's fav'rite fon?
Why flies fhe from the glories of a court,
Where wealth and pleasure may thy reign support,
To fome poor cottage on the mountain's brow, 320
Now bleak with winds, and cover'd now with fnow,
Where pinching want muft curb her warm defires,
And houshold cares fupprefs thy genial fires?
Too aptly the afflicted Heathens prove
The force, while they erect the fhrines of Love. 525
His myftic form the artizans of Greece
In wounded stone 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 store
Of pointed darts, fad emblems of his pow'r;
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 see him fly :
Curs'd dæmon! O! for ever broken lie
Those fatal fhafts by which I inward bleed!
O! can my wishes yet o'ertake thy speed!
Tir'd mayft thou pant, and hang thy flagging wing,
Except thou turn'ft thy courfe, 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 difapprov'd,
Till hopeless plung'd in an abyfs of grief,
I from neceffity receiv'd relief;
Time gently aided to affuage my pain,
And wisdom took once more the flacken'd rein.
But O how short my interval of woe?
Our griefs how swift, our remedies how flow!
Another nymph, (for fo did Heav'n ordain,
Yo change the manner but renew the pain)
Another nymph, amongst the many fair
That made my fofter hours their folemn care,
Before the rest affected still to stand,
And watch'd my eye, preventing my command.
Abra, fhe fo was call'd, did fooneft halte
To grace my prefence; Abra went the last;
Abra was ready ere I call'd her name,
And tho' I call'd another, Abra came.
Her equals firft obferv'd her growing zeal,
And laughing glofs'd, that Abra ferv'd fo well. 365
To me her actions did unheeded die,
Or were remark'd but with a common eye,
Till more appriz'd of what the rumour faid,
More I obferv'd peculiar in the maid.
The fun declin'd had fhot his western ray,
When, tir'd with bus'nefs of the folemn day,
I purpos'd to unbend the ev'ning hours,
And banquet private in the women's bow'rs.
I call'd before I sat 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 minister the urn.
With awful homage and fubmiffive dread
The maid approach'd, on my declining head
To 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 ftrove to hide a sudden figh.
And whence, faid I, canft thou have dread or pain?
What can thy imag'ry 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, sure thy little heart
Ne'er felt Love's anger or receiv'd his dart.
Abash'd the blush'd, and with disorder fpoke; 390
Her rifing fhame adorn'd the words it broke.
If the great mafter will defcend to hear
The humble feries of his handmaid's care,
O while fhe tells it, let him not put on
The look that awes the nations from the throne; 395
O! let not death fevere in glory lie
In the King's frown and terror of his eye.
Mine to obey, thy part is to ordain;
And tho' to mention be to fuffer pain,
If the king fmiles whilft I my woe recite,
If weeping I find favour in his fight,
Flow faft my tears, full rifing his delight.
O! witnefs earth beneath and heav'n above,
For can I hide it? I am fick of love!
If madness may the name of paffion bear,
Or love be call'd what is indeed despair.
Thou fov'reign Pow'r, whofe fecret will controls The inward bent and motion of our fouls! Why haft thou plac'd fuch infinite degrees Between the cause and cure of my disease? The mighty object of that raging fire In which unpity'd Abra must expire, Had he been born fome fimple fhepherd's heir, The lowing herd or fleecy fheep his care,
|