Classic Poem

BOOK IV. ODE I .

Venus! call'st thou once more to arms?
Sound'st thou once more thy dire alarms?
Annoy'st my peaceful state again —
Oh, faith of treaties sworn in vain!
Seal'd with the signet of thy doves,
And ratified by all the Loves.
Spare, Goddess! I implore, implore!
Alas! thy suppliant is no more
What once he was in happier time,
(Illustrated by many a rhyme)
When, skill'd in every ruling art,
Good A****s sway'd his yielding heart:
Love's champion then, and known to fame,
He boasted no inglorious name.
Now, cruel mother of desires!
That doubts and anxious joys inspires,
Ah why, so long disus'd, again
Leviest thou thy dreadful train;
That, when in daring fights he toil'd,
So oft his youthful ardor foil'd?
Oh! let thy hostile fury cease,
Thy faithful veteran rest in peace,
In the laborious service worn,
His arms decay'd, and ensigns torn.
Go, go, swan-wing'd, through liquid air,
Where the bland breath of youthful pray'r
Recals thee from the long delay,
And weeping, chides thee for thy stay.
My lowly roof, that knows no state,
Can't entertain a guest so great:
In P*****th's dome, majestic Queen,
With better grace thou shalt be seen,
If, worthy of the Cyprian dart,
Thou seek'st to pierce a lovely heart:
For he to noble birth has join'd
A graceful form and gentle mind;
And to subdue a virgin breast
The youth with thousand arts is blest;
Nor silent in his country's cause,
The anxious guardian of her laws.
He, in thy noblest warfare tried,
Shall spread thy empire far and wide;
Confirm the glories of thy reign;
And not a glance shall fall in vain.
Then, when each rival shall submit
The prize of beauty and of wit,
And riches yield to fair desert
The triumph of a female heart;
Grateful thy marble form shall stand,
Fair breathing from the sculptor's hand,
Below the temple's pillar'd pride,
Fast by a sacred fountain's side.
Where Tweed sports round each winding maze,
There song shall warble, incense blaze;
Nor dumb shall rest the silver lyre,
To animate the festive choir.
There twice a day fond boys shall come,
And tender virgins in their bloom,
(With fearful awe and infant shame)
To call upon thy hallow'd name,
As thrice about the wanton round
With snowy feet they lightly bound.
— — For me no beauty now invites,
Long recreant to the soft delights.
Lost to the charming arts that move,
Ah, dare I hope a mutual love?
The fond belief of pleasing pain
That hopes, fears, doubts, and hopes again?
No wreaths upon my forehead bloom,
Where flowers their vernal souls consume.
No more the reigning toast I claim:
I yield the fierce contended name,
Though daring once to drink all up,
While Bacchus could supply the cup.
" Farewell, delusive, idle power!
Welcome, contemplation's hour.
Now, now I search, neglected long,
The charms that lie in moral song,
How to assuage the boiling blood,
The lessons of the wise and good;
Now with fraternal sorrows mourn;
Now pour the tear o'er friendship's urn:
Or higher raise the wish refin'd,
The generous pray'r for human kind;
Or, anxious for my Britain's fate,
To Freedom beg a longer date,
To calm her more than civil rage,
And spare her yet one other age,
These, these the labours I pursue:
Fantastic Love! a long adieu."
— — Yet why, O beauteous *****, why,
Heaves the long forgotten sigh?
Why down my cheeks, when you appear,
Steals drop by drop the' unbidden tear?
Once skill'd to breathe the anxious vow,
Why fails my tongue its master now;
And, faltering, dubious strives in vain
The tender meaning to explain?
Why, in the visions of the night,
Rises thy image to my sight?
Now seiz'd, thy much-lov'd form I hold,
Now lose again the transient fold;
Unequal, panting far behind,
Pursue thee fleeter than the wind,
Whether the dear delusion strays
Through fair Hope-park's inchanting maze,
Or where thy cruel phantom glides
Along the swiftly running tides.