Classic Poem

With wine I strove to soothe my love-sick soul,
But vengeful Cupid dash'd with tears the bowl:
All mad with rage, to kinder nymphs I flew;
But vigour fled me, when I thought on you.
Balk'd of the rapture, from my arms they run,
Swear I'm devoted, and my converse shun!
By what dire witchcraft am I thus betray'd?
Your face and hair unnerve me, matchless maid!
Not more celestial look'd the sea-born fair,
Receiv'd by Peleus from her pearly chair.
A rich admirer his addresses paid,
And brib'd my mistress by a beldam's aid.
From you my ruin, curs'd procuress, rose;
What imprecations shall avenge my woes?
May heaven, in pity to my sufferings, shed
Its keenest mischief on your plotting head!
The ghosts of those you robb'd of love's delight,
In horrid visions haunt your irksome night!
And, on the chimney, may the boding owl
Your rest disturb, and terrify your soul!
By famine stung, to churchyards may you run:
There feast on offals, hungry wolves would shun!
Or howling frantic, in a tatter'd gown,
Fierce mastiffs bate you through each crowded town!
'Tis done! a lover's curse the gods approve;
But keenest vengeance fires the queen of love.
Leave then, my fair, the crafty venal jade:
What passion yields not, when such foes invade?
Your hearts, ye fair, does modest merit claim?
Though small his fortunes, feed his gentle flame:
For, genuine love's soft raptures would you know?
These raptures merit can alone bestow:
The sons of opulence are folly's care,
But want's rough child is sense, and honour's heir.
In vain we sing — the gate still bolted stands:
Come, vengeance! let us burst its sullen bands.
Learn, happy rival, by my wrongs to know
Your fate, since fortune governs all below.