Classic Poem

II i 1 37

IRENE
Aspasia, yet pursue the sacred Theme;
Exhaust the Stores of pious Eloquence,
And teach me to repell the Sultan's Passion.
Still at Aspasia's Voice a sudden Rapture
Exalts my Soul, and fortifies my Heart.
The glitt'ring Vanities of empty Greatness,
The Hopes and Fears, the Joys and Pains of Life,
Dissolve in Air, and vanish into Nothing.

ASPASIA
Let nobler Hopes and juster Fears succeed,
And bar the Passes of Irene's Mind
Against returning Guilt.

IRENE
When thou art absent
Death rises to my View, with all his Terrors;
Then Visions horrid as a Murd'rer's Dreams
Chill my Resolves, and blast my blooming Virtue:
Stern Torture shakes his bloody Scourge before me,
And Anguish gnashes on the fatal Wheel.

ASPASIA
Since Fear predominates in every Thought,
And sways thy Breast with absolute Dominion,
Think on th'insulting Scorn, the conscious Pangs,
The future Miseries that wait th'Apostate;
So shall Timidity assist thy Reason,
And Wisdom into Virtue turn thy Frailty.

IRENE
Will not that Pow'r that form'd the Heart of Woman,
And wove the feeble Texture of her Nerves,
Forgive those Fears that shake the tender Frame?

ASPASIA
The Weakness we lament, our selves create,
Instructed from our infant Years to court
With counterfeited Fears the Aid of Man;
We learn to shudder at the rustling Breeze,
Start at the Light, and tremble in the Dark;
Till Affectation, rip'ning to Belief,
And Folly, frighted at her own Chimeras,
Habitual Cowardice usurps the Soul.

IRENE
Not all like thee can brave the Shocks of Fate,
Thy Soul by Nature great, enlarg'd by Knowledge,
Soars unencumber'd with our idle Cares,
And all Aspasia but her Beauty's Man.