Elegy 25. To Mira
Fair art thou, M IRA ! in thy lover's eye;
No maiden on our plains is half so fair;
I gaze with rapture on your charms, but sigh
To think that others may that rapture share.
I can't endure the cringing sawning race,
That bow around you wheresoe'er you go;
Contract your sphere, be cautious how you please:
The man that smiles upon you is my foe.
Away, the empty bustle of a croud,
The languid starv'ling pleasures of a town;
But take, O! take us, some sequester'd wood,
To unknown bliss, or but to angels known.
I do not seek the glory of the vain,
Nor court I envy from the stolen glance;
Poor is the gift, and little does he gain,
Who leads a civil mistress in the dance.
Be mine the silent ecstasies of love,
Too nice for utt'rance, too resin'd for view;
I'm blest indeed! (thus far my wishes rove),
If only blest with solitude and you.
To Mira
And were the fond, the tender things you said,
Your vows, confirm'd by ev'ry pow'r above,
The mimic raptures of a longing maid,
To waste the tedious intervals of love?
When, warmly wanton, round my neck you hung,
For fawning F LORIO was the favour meant?
'Twas injur'd I the mournful harp that strung;
But fell yon tear because of my complaint?
The winning muse I, hapless! woo'd in vain;
Ascrib'd to F LORIO was the melting lay;
I till'd in sorrow, and I sow'd in pain,
A foreign hand the harvest swept away.
Ungrateful maid! for thee, with wakeful care,
I plann'd the pleasant, elegant retreat;
For thee the lowly cottage did prepare,
That might eclipse the dwellings of the great.
As, hand in hand, we left its hazel bourne,
This was design'd our walk at early dawn;
Here, sweetly sings the linnet from the thorn,
And mazy Maiden laves the lilied lawn.
Dismally shaded with surrounding yews,
And lonely, rises F LORIO 's Gothic dome;
With dead men's bones each walk the beadle strews;
And ev'ry prospect beckons to the tomb.
But if such scenes to M IRA 's eyes are fair,
If such the paths her feet delight to tread,
Despis'd A LEXIS will attend her there,
Perhaps so happy as to please when dead.
No maiden on our plains is half so fair;
I gaze with rapture on your charms, but sigh
To think that others may that rapture share.
I can't endure the cringing sawning race,
That bow around you wheresoe'er you go;
Contract your sphere, be cautious how you please:
The man that smiles upon you is my foe.
Away, the empty bustle of a croud,
The languid starv'ling pleasures of a town;
But take, O! take us, some sequester'd wood,
To unknown bliss, or but to angels known.
I do not seek the glory of the vain,
Nor court I envy from the stolen glance;
Poor is the gift, and little does he gain,
Who leads a civil mistress in the dance.
Be mine the silent ecstasies of love,
Too nice for utt'rance, too resin'd for view;
I'm blest indeed! (thus far my wishes rove),
If only blest with solitude and you.
To Mira
And were the fond, the tender things you said,
Your vows, confirm'd by ev'ry pow'r above,
The mimic raptures of a longing maid,
To waste the tedious intervals of love?
When, warmly wanton, round my neck you hung,
For fawning F LORIO was the favour meant?
'Twas injur'd I the mournful harp that strung;
But fell yon tear because of my complaint?
The winning muse I, hapless! woo'd in vain;
Ascrib'd to F LORIO was the melting lay;
I till'd in sorrow, and I sow'd in pain,
A foreign hand the harvest swept away.
Ungrateful maid! for thee, with wakeful care,
I plann'd the pleasant, elegant retreat;
For thee the lowly cottage did prepare,
That might eclipse the dwellings of the great.
As, hand in hand, we left its hazel bourne,
This was design'd our walk at early dawn;
Here, sweetly sings the linnet from the thorn,
And mazy Maiden laves the lilied lawn.
Dismally shaded with surrounding yews,
And lonely, rises F LORIO 's Gothic dome;
With dead men's bones each walk the beadle strews;
And ev'ry prospect beckons to the tomb.
But if such scenes to M IRA 's eyes are fair,
If such the paths her feet delight to tread,
Despis'd A LEXIS will attend her there,
Perhaps so happy as to please when dead.
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