תמונות בעמוד
PDF
ePub

Condemn'd eternal changes to purfue,
Tir'd with the last, and eager of the new.

I bad the virgins and the youth advance,
To temper mufic with the sprightly dance.
In vain! too low the mimic-motions feem;
What takes our heart, muft merit our esteem.
Nature, I thought, perform'd too mean a part,
Forming her movements to the rules of art;
And vex'd I found, that the musician's hand
Had o'er the dancer's mind too great command.
I drank; I lik'd it not: 'twas rage; 'twas noife;
An airy scene of transitory joys.

In vain I trusted, that the flowing bowl
Would banish forrow, and enlarge the foul.
To the late revel, and protracted feast
Wild dreams fucceeded, and diforder'd reft;
And, as at dawn of morn fair reason's light
Broke through the fumes and phantoms of the night;
What had been faid, I ask'd my foul, what done;
How flow'd our mirth, and whence the fource begun ?
Perhaps the jeft that charm'd the sprightly croud,
And made the jovial table laugh fo loud,
To some false notion ow'd its poor pretence,
To an ambiguous word's perverted fenfe,
To a wild fonnet, or a wanton air,

Offence and torture to the fober ear:

Perhaps, alas! the pleafing ftream was brought
From this man's error, from another's fault;
From topics which good-nature would forget,
And prudence mention with the last regret.

Add

Add yet unnumber'd ills, that lie unfeen In the pernicious draught; the word obscene, Or harsh, which once elanc'd must ever fly Irrevocable; the too prompt reply,

Seed of fevere diftruft, and fierce debate;
What we should shun, and what we ought to hate.
Add too the blood impoverish'd, and the course
Of health fupprefs'd, by wine's continu'd force.
Unhappy man! whom forrow thus and
rage
To different ills alternately engage;
Who drinks, alas! but to forget; nor fees,
That melancholy floth, fevere disease,
Memory confus'd, and interrupted thought,
Death's harbingers, lie latent in the draught:
And in the flowers that wreath the sparkling bowl.
Fell adders hifs, and poisonous ferpents roll.

Remains there ought untry'd, that may remove
Sickness of mind, and heal the bofom?-Love,
Love yet remains: indulge his genial fire,
Cherish fair hope, folicit young defire,
And boldly bid thy anxious foul explore
This laft great remedy's mysterious power.
Why therefore hefitates my doubtful breast?
Why ceases it one moment to be bleft?

Fly swift, my friends; my fervants, fly; employ
Your inftant pains to bring your mafter joy.
Let all my wives and concubines be drefs'd;
Let them to-night attend the royal feaft;
All Ifrael's beauty, all the foreign fair;
The gifts of princes, or the fpoils of war:

D &

Before

Before their monarch they shall fingly pass;

And the moft worthy fhall obtain the grace.

I faid: the feast was ferv'd; the bowl was crown'd; To the king's pleasure went the mirthful round: The women came: as custom wills, they paft: On one, (O that distinguish'd one!) I caft The favourite glance! O! yet my mind retains That fond beginning of my infant pains,

Mature the virgin was, of Egypt's race;

Grace fhap'd her limbs, and beauty deck'd her face:

Eafy her motion feem'd, ferene her air;

Full, though unzon'd, her bofom rofe: her hair
Unty'd, and ignorant of artful aid,

Adown her shoulders loofely lay display'd;

And in the jetty curls ten thoufand Cupids play'd,
Fix'd on her charms, and pleas'd that I could love.
Aid me, my friends, contribute to approve
Your monarch's blifs, I faid; fresh roses bring
To ftrew my bed; 'till the impoverish'd Spring
Confefs her want; around my amorous head
Be dropping myrrh, and liquid amber fhed,
'Till Arab has no more. From the foft lyre,
Sweet flute, and ten-ftring'd inftrument, require
Sounds of delight: and thou fair nymph draw nigh;
Thou in whofe graceful form, and potent eye
Thy matter's joy long fought at length is found;
And, as thy brow, let my defires be crown'd;
O favourite virgin, that haft warm'd the breast,
Whose fovereign dictates fubjugate the East!

I faid;

und:

I faid; and fudden from the golden throne
With a fubmiffive step I hafted down,
The glowing garland from my hair I took,
Love in my heart, obedience in my look;
Prepar'd to place it on her comely head:
O favourite virgin! (yet again I faid)
Receive the honours deftin'd to thy brow;
And O above thy fellows happy thou!
Their duty must thy fovereign word obey :

Rife

up, my love, my fair one, come away.
What pang, alas! what ecstasy of smart
Tore up my fenfes, and transfix'd my heart;
When she with modeft fcorn the wreath return'd,
Reclin'd her beauteous neck, and inward mourn'd!
Forc'd by my pride, I my concern fupprefs'd,
Pretended drowfinefs, and wish of reft;

And fullen I forfook th' imperfect feast:
Ordering the eunuchs, to whose proper care
Our eaftern grandeur gives th' imprifon'd fair,
To lead her forth to a diftinguish'd bower,
And bid her drefs the bed, and wait the hour.

Reftlefs I follow'd this obdurate maid
(Swift are the steps that love and anger tread);
Approach'd her perfon, courted her embrace,
Renew'd my flame, repeated my difgrace;
By turns put on the fuppliant, and the lord:
Threaten'd this moment, and the next implor'd;
Offer'd again the unaccepted wreath,

And choice of happy love, or inftant death.

D 3

}

Averfe

Averfe to all her amorous king defir'd,
Far as fhe might, the decently retir'd:
And, darting fcorn and forrow from her eyes,
What means, faid fhe, king Solomon the wife?

This wretched body trembles at your power:
Thus far could fortune, but she can no more.
Free to herself my potent mind remains;
Nor fears the victor's rage, nor feels his chains,
'Tis faid, that thou canft plaufibly difpute,
Supreme of feers! of angel, man, and brute;
Can't plead with fubtle wit and fair discourse,
Of paffion's folly, and of reafon's force;
That to the tribes attentive, thou canst fhow,
Whence their misfortunes, or their bleffings flow;
That thou in fcience, as in power art great;
And truth and honour on thy edicts wait.
Where is that knowledge now, that regal thought,
With juft 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 strife;
"Tis all the colour of remaining life:
And human mifery must begin or end,
As he becomes a tyrant, or a friend.
Would David's fon, religious, juft, and grave,
To the first bride-bed of the world receive,
A foreigner, a heathen, and a slave?

Or grant, thy paffion has these names destroy'd;
That love, like death, makes all distinctions void;

}

Yet

« הקודםהמשך »