Classic Poem

Late in an unfrequented Cave there lay
A pensive Nymph, who sigh'd her Time away;
A friendless Orphan, and to Wrongs expos'd,
She shunn'd the World,
And in her lov'd Obscurity repos'd.

II.

When just as grey Aurora rais'd her Head,
And o'er the World a glimmering Twilight spread
In this sad Great a sudden Voice was heard:
A Cupid flew around,
And in his Hand a lambent Torch appear'd.
These Chains (cried he) of Slumber break,
Awake! oh careless Maid, awake!
Great Hymen! whom the Wicked fear,
Hymeneus! whom all revere,
Thro' the Air now flies in State,
And bids Thee on his Triumph wait:
Yon holy Dome thou feest in View,
Sacred to Love, and Honour too;
Where Hymen keeps his Court to Day,
And all the Graces Homage pay:
Thither let thy Steps repair,
But leave behind all thoughtful Care;
That no sad Object interrupt our Stay,
But all for Joy prepare.

III.

Eliza, soon the Voice obey'd,
And at the Fane Attendance paid:
Fragrant Scents perfum'd the Air,
Sweet Symphonies invade the Ear:
Troops of Zephir's clear'd the Way,
And lucid Beams proclaim'd the Day.
The Priests and Votaries in Order plac'd,
With yellow Robes, and flow'ry Chaplets grac'd.
The great Procession thus began:
All pow'rful Love! led up the Van,
In Form, a Child, in Wisdom more than Man.
Next him, majestick Hymen came,
In Saffron Robes resembling Flame;
Slow was his Pace, and solemn was his Mien,
And round him wond'rous Joys were in Perspective seen.
Honour succeeded next, with Look severe,
And thousand little Cupids fill'd the Rear:
The vaulted Roof with Acclamations rung,
And Hymen! IO Hymen! was devoutly sung.
Each Deity assum'd his proper Place,
And snuff'd the Incense with auspicious Grace:
At Honour's Nod, the Temple seem'd to shake,
While with a flowing Accent thus he spake.

IV.

This Day Amphion pays his Vows
And at our sacred Altar bows;
He! whose Actions weary Fame:
Yet so humbly modest too,
That we dare not speak his Due,
But after Ages shall with Joy proclaim.
Amphion! great Casar's Care,
Amphion! to the Muses dear,
Amphion! Truth and Virtue's Friend,
Amphion! who does all transcend:
And whom more justly by that Name we call,
Than him who built the Theban Wall?
This Day he pays those Vows to Honour due.
The Bride's Encomium, Love, belongs to you.

V.

Love.

How willingly stern Honour I obey,
Ah! wou'd he always such Injunctions lay:
How pleasing is it, to describe the Fair,
Draw ev'ry Glance, paint each enchanting Air?
But on this wond'rous Subject, I despair.
Long since, my dear Companions, faithful Fame
Made you acquainted with Cassandra's Name:
Cassandra! who gave Love to all she knew,
And yet possess'd so hard a Heart,
As baffled all my Pow'r and Art:
Amphion only cou'd subdue,
And save the sinking Credit of my Dart.
Bright Cassandra! lovely Bride!
Fair without Scorn! and virtuous without Pride.
Envy her self, such Virtues must prefer,
And love those Graces, which she wants, in her.

Chorus .

Hymen.

Happy Couple, come away,
And stand not on too nice Delay.

Honour.

How dull these tedious Minutes flow,
When Honour calls you, why so flow

Love.

Oh Amphion! no Delay
To the Temple haste away;
Love is here, and will bestow
Blessings thou didst never know;
A virtuous Wife doth comprehend
Peace, Plenty, and a faithful Friend.

Honour.

Their worthy Actions I'll conserve,
And give to Fame what they deserve.

Hymen.

And I, the sacred knot will tie,
And bless their conjugal Fidelity.

All.

Oh! how we long to meet this Pair!
He so Good, and she so Fair!
One of the Best, and greatest Patriots he,
One of the Fairest, and most Virtuous she.

Hymen.

Know'st thou, Eliza, where she doth reside?
Know'st thou where Thame's rolls his majestick Tide?
Close by the Margin of his Flood, there stands
An awful Pile, which Fabius still commands;
Sudicious Fabius built it for his Seat,
And there from Bus'ness makes a calm Retreat.
There charming Ariana doth preside,
With fair Cassandra, our elected Bride:
Run, run Eliza! help the Bride prepare,
And to Amphion, what thou'st heard declare,
For sure, I think, thou'lt find him there.
All our mysterious Rites to him reherse,
Not in dull Prose, but Pindar's lofty Verse.
Fly! Fly! too tardy Maid, no more delay,
Divine Commands, how darst thou disobey?