ELEGY II. Instead of composing for fame, he resolves to write the praises of JULIA. NO more I'll idly pour the line for praise: I ask the MUSES for their sweetest lays, To tell a beauteous MAID, how much I love. Vain are our vows to FAME! alas, how vain! TO JULIA's hand I own my wish aspires: A heart to guard her, and a soul to love. Tho' Courts admir'd, the modest JULIA chose The silent shade, remote from public view: How like the berry that in secret glows, And hides beneath a leaf its blushful hue! Few are the wishes of the constant PAIR: What tho' no gold their humble cot displays; CONTENT, their guest, thus cries with careless air, "Go, leave us, WEALTH, and palaces emblaze." In rural bowers CONTENT delights to dwell; And join the nymphs and shepherds of the dale. To FORTUNE's tinsel shrine let others bow, ELEGY III. He complains of JULIA's not keeping her appointment to meet him. WHAT demons keep my soul's delight away, Pale EVENING waves around an envious shade! How expectation loads th' important hour! Impatience wilder with each moment grows! Thou loit'ring FAIR-ONE, bless th' appointed bow'r, And snatch thy lover from a thousand woes. From vale to vale my eager gaze I strain; From glade to glade with wild emotion move; Now turn and sigh, now move and turn again, Devour each sound, and chide my ling'ring love. Desponding, now upon the ground I lie, And, anxious, murmur to the desert air; Dark as the bosom of the stormy deep, Wild as its waves my thoughts succeeding roll; Cool reason vainly soothes the wretch to sleepOh! what is reason to the love-sick soul? Ye sweet companions of my lonely bow'r, Oh, that my voice could join your cheerful choir! Light as your wing that skims the midway sky, Nor bath'd my lids in sorrow's baleful dew. Hate to the Nymph I vow, and cold disdain: Yet at each idle sound alarm'd, I start; To meet her, panting, every nerve I strain, Where is my love? Alas! my transports die: My cheek, that redden'd with despair,turns pale; With disappointment drops my clouded eye, Each pining feature tells a mournful tale. See, see, the sun descends beneath the deep; And wish in vain to stay the parting light. |