Classic Poem

A LOVE-ELEGY .

ADDRESSED TO A LADY, WHO HAD JUST FINISHED HER FIFTEENTH YEAR .

As Beauty's queen, in her airial hall
Sublimely seated on a golden throne,
Before her high tribunal summon'd all
Who or on earth, sea, air, her empire own.

First came her Son, her pow'r, her darling boy,
Whose gentlest breath can raise the fiercest flame,
Oft working mischief, though his end be joy,
And though devoid of sight, yet sure of aim.

With him, his youthful consort, sad no more,
Psyche, infranchis'd from all mortal pain,
Who, every trial of obedience o'er,
Enjoys the blessings of the heavenly reign.

Next, as it well beseem'd, the tuneful Nine,
Daughters of memory, and dear to Jove,
Who, as they list, the hearts of men incline
To wit, to music, poetry, or love.

She who with milder breath inspiring fills:
Than ever Zephyr knew, the heart-born sigh,
Or else from Nature's pregnant source distils
The tender drops that swell the love-sick eye.

Or she who from her copious store affords,
When love decrees, the faithful youth to bless,
The sacred energy of melting words,
In the dear hour and season of success.

Last in the train two sisters fair appear'd,
Sorrowing they seem'd, yet seem'd their sorrow sweet;
Nor ever from the ground their eyes they rear'd,
Nor tripp'd, as they were wont, on snowy feet.

The Cyprian goddess cast her eyes around,
And gaz'd o'er all, with ever new delight;
So bright an host was no where to be found:
Her heart dilates, and glories in its might.

But when without their lov'd companion dear
Two solitary Graces hand in hand
Approach'd, the goddess inly 'gan to fear
What might befal the youngest of the band:

Ah! whither is retir'd my darling joy,
My youngest Grace, the pride of all my reign,
First in my care, and ever in my eye,
Why is she now the lag of all my train?

Ah me! some danger threats my Cyprian state,
Which, goddess as I am, I can't foresee;
Some dire disaster labours, (ah, my fate!)
To wrest love's sceptre from my son and me.

She wept: not more she wept, when first her eyes,
Saw low in dust her Ilion's towery pride;
Nor from her breast more frequent burst the sigh,
When her lov'd youth, her dear Adoms died.

" Yet, yet," she cry'd, " I will a monarch reign!
In my last deed my greatness shall be seen:
Ye Loves, ye Smiles, ye Graces, all my train,
Attend your Mother, and obey your Queen.

Wisdom's vain goddess weaves some treacherous wile,
Or haughty Juno, Heaven's relentless dame:
Haste! bend each bow; haste! brighten every smile,
And launch from every eye the lightning's flame."

Then had fell Discord broke the golden chain
That does the harmony of all uphold,
And where these orbs in beauteous order reign,
Brought back the anarchy of Chaos old:

When Cupid keen unlocks his feather'd store,
When Venus burns with more than mortal fire,
Mortals, immortals, all had fled before
The Loves, the Graces, and the Smiles in ire:

In vain, to' avert the horrors of that hour,
Anxious for fate, and fearing for his sky,
The Sire of gods and men had try'd his pow'r,
And hung his golden balances on high:

Had not the eldest Grace, serene and mild,
Who wish'd this elemental war might cease,
Sprung forward, with persuasive look, and smil'd
The furious Mother of desires to peace.

" Ah whence this rage, vain child of empty fear!"
With accent mild thus spoke the heav'nly maid,
" What words, O Sovereign of hearts! severe
Have pass'd the roses of thy lips unweigh'd?

Think not mankind forsake thy mystic law:
Thy son, thy pride, thy own Cupido reigns;
Heard with respect, and seen with tender awe;
Mighty on thrones, and gentle on the plains.

Remember'st not how in the blest abodes
Of high Olympus an ethereal guest,
Mix'd with the synod of the' assembled Gods,
Thou shar'd'st the honours of the ambrosial feast?

Celestial pleasures reigning all around,
Such as the pow'rs who live at ease enjoy,
The smiling bowl with life immortal crown'd,
By rosy Hebe, and the Phrygian boy:

Hermes, sly God, resolv'd thy spleen to hit,
Thy spleen, but, of itself, too apt to move;
Prone to offend with oft-mistaking wit,
That foe perverse to nature and to love.

Much gloz'd he spiteful, how rebellious youth,
Lost to thy fear, and recreant from thy name,
False to the interest of the heart, and truth
On foreign altars kindles impious flame.

Much gloz'd he tauntful, how to nobler aims
The youth awakening from each female wile,
No longer met in love's opprobrious flames,
Slaves to an eye, or vassals to a smile.

Now fifteen years the still-returning Spring
With flow'rs the bosom of the earth has sow'd,
As oft the groves heard Philomela sing,
And trees have paid the fragrant gifts they ow'd.

Since our dear sister left the heavenly bow'rs:
So will'd the Fates, and such their high commands,
She should be born in high Edina's tow'rs,
To thee far dearer than all other lands.

There, clad in mortal form, she lies conceal'd,
A veil more bright than mortal form e'er knew;
So fair was ne'er to dreaming bard reveal'd,
Nor sweeter e'er the shadowing pencil drew.

Where'er the beauteous heart-compeller moves,
She scatters wide perdition all around:
Blest with celestial form, and crown'd with loves,
No single breast is refractory found.

Vain Pallas now the' unequal conflict shuns;
Vain are the terrors of her Gorgon shield:
Wit bends; but chief Apollo's yielding sons:
To thy fair doves Juno's proud peacocks yield.

No rival pow'rs thy envied empire share;
Revolted mortals crowd again thy shrine;
Duteous to love, and every pleasing care,
All hearts are her's, and all her heart is thine.

So mild a sway the willing nations own;
By her thou triumph'st o'er this subject ball;
Whilst men (the secret of the skies unknown)
The beauteous apparition Laura call."