Classic Poem

Love still invites me with a smiling eye!
Beneath his smiles, what pains and anguish lie?
Yet since the gods, dread power, must yield to thee:
What laurels canst thou gain from conquering me?
Me Delia lov'd; but by thy subtle wiles,
The fair, in secret, on another smiles:
That my suspicion's false, 'tis true, she swears;
And backs her imprecations with her tears.
False fair! your oaths and syren tears refrain;
Your syren tears and oaths no credit gain;
For when your lord suspected me of yore,
As much you wept, as many oaths you swore.
Yet wherefore blame I Love? the blame is mine;
I, wretched I, first taught her to design!
I first instructed her, her spies to foil!
Back on myself my wanton arts recoil:
Herbs of rare energy my skill supplied,
All marks of too fond gallantry to hide!
More artful now, alone the wanton lies;
And new pretexts her cozening brains devise.
Uncautious lord of a too cunning spouse!
Admittance grant me, she shall keep her vows!
Be warn'd, my friend, observe her when her tongue
Commends in wanton phrase the gay-dress'd young;
Oh! let her not her heaving bosom bare,
Expos'd to every fop's immodest stare.
When leaning on the board, with flowing wine,
She seems to draw some inconsiderate line;
Take heed, take heed (I know the warning true)
These random lines assign an interview.
Nor let your wife to fanes so frequent roam,
A modest wife's best temple is at home;
But if your prohibitions are all vain,
Give me the hint, I'll dodge her to the fane:
What though the goddess snatch my curious sight,
I'll bring her wanton privacies to light.
Some gem she wore I'd oft pretend to view,
But squeez'd her fingers, unperceiv'd of you:
Oft with full racy bowls I seal'd your eyes,
Water my beverage, and obtain'd the prize.
Yet since I tell, forgive the pranks I play'd,
Love prompted all, and Love must be obey'd!
Nay, 'twas at me (be now the truth avow'd)
Your watchful mastiff us'd to bark so loud;
But now some other, with insidious wait,
Intent observes each creaking of your gate,
At which, whoever of the house appears,
Passing, the mien of quick dispatch he wears;
But comes again, the minute they remove,
And coughs; — sure signal of impatient love!
What boots, though marriage gave a wife so fair,
If careless you, or she eludes your care?
While men are artful, and your wife can feign,
Vain are your brazen-bolts, your mastiffs vain:
Cold to the raptures of the genial bed,
She lays the fault upon an aching head:
'Tis false; the wanton for some other sighs;
From this her coolness, this, her aches arise.
Then, then be warn'd, intrust her to my care;
Whips, chains I laugh at, if you grant my prayer.
" Hence from my ward, ye sparkish essenc'd beaux;
Illegal love oft springs from essenc'd clothes."
Where'er she walks, not distant I'll attend;
And guard your honour from the casual friend!
" Off, gallants, off: for so the gods ordain;
So, the dread priestess in unerring strain!"
(When holy fury fires the frantic dame,
She mocks all torture, and exults in flame;
Her snow-white arms and heaving breast she tears,
And with the gushing gore Bellona smears;
Deep in her side she plants the glittering sword;
And the dread goddess prompts each fateful word.)
" Ye youths, beware; nor touch whom Cupid guards;
Unpunish'd none attempt his gentle wards:
As my blood flows, and as these ashes fly,
Their wealth shall perish, and their manhood die."
She menac'd then the fair, with dreadful pain;
E'en were you guilty, may her threats be vain:
Not on your own account; your mother's age,
Your worthy mother, deprecates my rage:
When love and fortune smil'd, her gentle aid
Oft me conducted to the blooming maid;
My footsteps, wakeful, from afar she knew,
Unbarr'd the gate, nor fear'd the nightly dew:
Half of my life's long thread I'd pleas'd resign,
My sweet conductress, could I lengthen thine!
Still, still, though much abus'd, I Delia prize;
She's still thy daughter, and enchants my eyes.
Yet though no coy cimar invest the fair;
Nor vestal fillet bind her auburn hair;
Teach her what decent modesty requires;
To crown my fire, alone, with equal fires.
Me too confine; and if, in wanton praise
Of other maids, my tongue luxuriant strays;
Let thy suspicion then no limits know,
Insult me, spurn me, as thy greatest foe;
But if your jealousies are built in air,
And patient love your usage cannot bear;
What wrath may perpetrate, my soul alarms;
For, wrath, I warn you, heeds not female charms.
Nor yet be chaste, from mean unamorous fear;
Be still most modest, when I am not near.
For those, whom neither wit nor worth secure,
Grow old, unpitied, palsied, worthless, poor;
Yet with each servile drudgery they strive
To keep their being's wretchedness alive!
The gay regard their woe with laughing eyes;
Swear they deserve it, and absolve the skies:
Nor Venus less exults — " May such a fate,
(From heaven she prays) upon the' inconstant wait!"
The same my wish! but oh! may we two prove,
In age, a pattern of unalter'd love!