Classic Poem

Cynthia's ensnaring eyes my bondage tied:
Ah wretch! no loves till then had toucht my breast;
Love bent to earth these looks of stedfast pride,
And on my neck his foot triumphant prest.

He taught me, then, to loathe the virtuous fair,
And shameless waste my wild and driftless hours;
Twelve moons this madness lasts; and yet my prayer
Is breathed in hopeless love to adverse powers.

Minalion, erst, could all adventures brave,
Till Atalanta's barbarous heart grew mild;
Love-crazed, he tried each drear Parthenian cave,
And lookt on shaggy beasts in forests wild!

Struck by the branch the monstrous Centaur swayed,
Midst shrill Arcadia's rocks he groaning fell;
And thus he tamed the nimble-footed maid;
Thus love-prayers speed, and acts that merit well!

In me no arts can tardy Love devise;
His foot can track no more the beaten ways:
Come ye! that draw the Moon from charmed skies,
That bid the hearth in magic orgies blaze.

Come! turn a haughty mistress' marble heart,
And change her cheek, still paler than my own:
Then will I trust that stars obey your art,
And rivers rush, by muttered verse alone.

Friends! that too late my sliding feet recall,
Some antidote to this my frenzy bear:
Bring steel; bring flames and racks: I brave them all;
But let me freely vent my fierce despair.

Oh snatch me to the world's remotest shore!
Oh waft me o'er the immeasurable main!
Where never woman may behold me more,
Nor trace my way, to sting with her disdain.

Stay ye, to whom the listening God consents;
Safe in an equal yoke of fondness move;
But Venus all my bitter nights torments;
No — not a single hour is free from love!

Beware my sufferings: hold the mistress dear
Whose faith is tried, nor shift the accustomed sway;
If to my voice ye bend a slothful ear,
What pangs shall my remembered words convey.