Classic Poem

An Amorous Shepherd lov'd a charming Boy,
As fair as thought could frame, or wish enjoy;
Unlike his Soul, illnatur'd and unkind,
An Angell's body with a Fury's mind:
How great a God Love was, He scorn'd to know,
How sharp his arrows, and how strong his bow,
What rageing wounds he scatters here below.
In his address and talk fierce, rude, untame,
He gave no comfort to the Shepherd's flame:
No cherry Lips, no Rose his Cheeks did dye,
No pleasing Fire did sparkle in his Eye,
Where eager thoughts with fainting Vertue strove,
No soft discourse, nor Kiss to ease his love:
But as a Lion on the Lybian Plain
Looks on his Hunters, he beheld the Swain:
His Lips still pouting, and his Eyes unkind,
His Forehead too was rough as was his Mind;
His Colour gone, and every pleasing Grace
Beset by Fury had forsook his face;
Yet midst his passion, midst his frowns he mov'd,
As these were Charms He was the more belov'd:
But when o'recome he could endure no more,
He came and wept before the hated door,
He wept and pin'd, he hung his sickly head,
The threshold kisst, and thus at last he said:
Ah cruel fair, and of a Tigress born!
Ah stony Boy, compos'd of frowns and scorn:
Unworthy of my love, this Rope receive,
The last, and wellcomst Present I can give:
I'le never vex thee more, I'le cease to wo,
And whether you condemn'd, I'll freely go,
Where certain Cures for Love, as Stories tell,
Where dismal shades, and dark Oblivion dwell;
Yet did I drink the whole forgetful Stream,
It would not drown my Love, nor quench my flame;
Thy cruel doors I bid my last Adieu,
Know what will come, and you shall find it true;
The Day is fair but quickly yields to shades,
The Lilly white, but when 'tis pluckt it fades;
The Violet lovely, but it withers soon,
Youth's beauty charming, but 'tis quickly gone;
The time shall come when you, proud Boy, shall prove
The heat of Passion, and the rage of Love:
Then shall thy Soul melt thro thy weeping Eye,
Whilst all shall smile, and you unpitty'd dye.
Yet grant one kindness, and I ask no more,
When you shall see me hanging at the door
Do not go proudly by, forbear to smile,
But stay, sweet Boy, and gaze, and weep a while;
Then take me down, and whilst some tears are shed,
Thy own soft garment o're my body spread,
And grant one Kiss, one Kiss when I am dead;
Nere fear, for you may safely grant me this,
I shalln't revive tho you could Love and Kiss:
Then dig a grave, there let my Love be laid,
And when you part, say thrice, "my friend is dead',
Or else go further on to please my Ghost,
And cry, "my best, my dearest friend is lost';
And on my Monument inscribe this Rhime,
The witness of my Love and of thy Crime,
"This shepherd dy'd for Love, stay Stranger here,
And weep, and cry, He lov'd a cruel fair';
This said, he roll'd a Stone, a mighty Stone,
Fate lent a hand behind, and pusht it on;
High by the Wall, on this he panting rose,
And ty'd, and fitted well the fatal noose;
Then from the place on which before he stood
He slipt, and hung the Door's unhappy load;
The Boy came forth, and with a scornful Meine
And smiling look beheld the tragick Scene;
Hang there said He, but O how I despise
So base, so mean a Trophy of my Eyes!
The proudest Kings should fall by my disdain,
Too noble to be lost upon a Swain:
This said, he turn'd, and as he turn'd his head
His Garments were polluted by the Dead,
Thence to the plays and to the Baths did move,
The Bath was sacred to the God of Love;
For there he stood in comely Majesty
Smiles on his Cheeks, and softness in his Eye,
That part of th' Marble wrought into his Breast
By Power divine was softer than the rest,
To show how Pitty did exactly suit
With Love, and was his darling Attribute:
The God leapt forth, and dasht the Boy, the Wound
Let out his Soul, and as it fled He groan'd.
Hail Lovers, hail, see here the scornful dyes,
A just, and acceptable Sacrifice,
Be kind, and Love for mutual Love return,
For see the God takes vengeance on my scorn.