Oh my dear Lysidas! my faithful Friend,
Would I cou'd here with all my Pleasures end:
'Twas Heaven! 'twas Extaxsie! each minute brought
New Raptures to my Senses, Soul and Thought;
Each Look, each Touch, my Ravisht fancy charm'd,
Each Accent of her Voice my Blood Alarm'd;
I pant with every Glance, faint with a Kiss,
Oh Judge my Transports then in higher Bliss.
A while all Dead, between her Arms I lay,
Unable to possess the conquer'd Joys;
But by degrees my Soul its sense retriev'd;
Shame and Confusion let me know I liv'd.
I saw the trembling dis-appointed Maid,
With charming angry Eyes my fault upbraid,
While Love and Spight no kind Excuse affords,
My Rage and Softness was above dull Words,
And my Misfortune only was exprest,
By Signing out my Soul into her Brest:
A thousand times I breath'd Aminta's name,
Aminta! call'd! but that increas'd my flame.
And as the Tide of Love flow'd in, so fast
My Low, my Ebbing Vigor out did hast.
But 'twas not long, thus idly, and undone
I lay, before vast Seas came rowling on,
Spring-tides of Joy, that the rich neighboring shoar }
And down the fragrant Banks it proudly bore, }
O're-flow'd and ravisht all great Natures store. }
Swoln to Luxurious heights, no bounds it knows,
But wantonly it Triumphs where it flows.
Some God inform Thee of my blest Estate,
But all their Powers divert thee from my Fate.
'Twas thus we liv'd the wonder of the Groves,
Fam'd for our Love, our mutual constant Loves.
Young Amorous Hero's at her Feet did fall,
Despair'd and dy'd, whilst I was Lord of All;
Her Empire o're my Soul each moment grew, }
New Charms each minute did appear in view, }
And each appointment Ravishing and New. }
Fonder each hour my tender Heart became,
And that which us'd t' allay, increas'd my Flame.
But on a day, oh may no chearful Ray,
Of the Sun's Light, bless that succeeding day!
May the black hours from the account be torn,
May no fair thing upon thy day be born!
May fate and Hell appoint thee for their own,
May no good deed be in thy Circle done!
May Rapes, Conspiricies and Murders stay,
Till thou com'st on, and hatch em in thy day!
—'Twas on this day all Joyful Gay and Fair, }
Fond as desire, and wanton as the Air; }
Aminta did with me to the blest Bower repair. }
Beneath a Beechy Shade, a flowry Bed,
Officious Cupid's for our Pleasure spred,
Where never did the Charmer ere impart,
More Joy, more Rapture to my ravisht Heart:
'Twas all the first; 'twas all beginning Fire!
'Twas all new Love! new Pleasure! new Desire!
—Here stop, my Soul—
Stop thy carreer of Vanity and Pride,
And only say,—'Twas here Aminta dy'd:
The fleeting Soul as quickly dis-appears,
As leaves blown off with Winds, or falling Stars;
And Life its flight assum'd with such a pace;
It took no farewel of her lovely Face,
The Fugitive not one Beauty did surprize,
It scarce took time to languish in her Eyes,
But on my Bosom bow'd her charming Head;
And sighing, these surprizing words she said:
"Joy of my Soul, my faithful tender Youth,
Lord of my Vows, and Miracle of Truth:
Thou soft obliger—: of thy Sex the best,
Thou blessing too Extream to be possest;
The Angry God, designing we must part,
Do render back the Treasure of thy Heart;
When in some new fair Breast, it finds a room,
And I shall ly—neglected—in my Tomb—
Remember—oh remember—the fair she,
Can never love thee, darling Youth, like me."
Then with a Sigh she sunk into my Brest,
While her fair Eyes her last farewel exprest;
To aiding God's I cry'd; but they were Deaf,
And no kind pow'r afforded me relief:
I call her name, I weep, I rave and faint,
And none but Eccho's answer my Complaint;
I Kiss and Bathe her stiffening Face with Tears,
Press it to mine, as cold and pale as her's;
The fading Roses of her Lips I press,
But no kind Word the silenc'd Pratlers will confess;
Her lovely Eyes I kiss, and call upon,
But all their wonted answering Rhetorick's gone.
Her charming little Hands in vain I ask,
Those little Hands no more my Neck shall grasp;
No more about my Face her Fingers play,
Nor brede my Hair, or the vain Curls display,
No more her Tongue beguiling Stories tell,
Whose wonderous Wit cou'd grace a Tale so well;
All, all is fled, to Death's cold Mansion gone, }
And I am left benighted and undone, }
And every day my Fate is hasting on. }
From the inchanting Bower I madly fly,
That Bower that now no more affords me Joy.
Love had not left for me one Bliss in store,
Since my Aminta you'd dispence no more.
—Thence to a silent Desert I advance,
And call'd the Desert of Remembrance;
A solitude upon a Mountain plac'd,
All gloomy round, and wonderous high and vast,
From whence Love's Island all appears in view,
And distant Prospects renders near and true;
Each Bank, each Bower, each dear inviting Shade,
That to our Sacred Loves was conscious made;
Each flowry Bed, each Thicket and each Grove,
Where I have lain Charm'd with Aminta's Love;
(Where e're she chear'd the day, and blest the Night)
Eternally are present to my Sight.
Where e're I turn, the Landskip does confess,
Something that calls to mind past happiness.
This, Lysidas, this is my wretched state,
'Tis here I languish, and attend my Fate.
But e're I go, 'twou'd wonderous Pleasure be, }
(If such a thing can e're arrive to me) }
To find some Pity (Lysidas) from thee. }
Then I shou'd take the Wing, and upwards fly,
And loose the Sight of this dull World with Joy.

Your Lysander.

A TABLE.

PAGE.
The Golden Age, a Paraphrase on a Translation out of French[138]
A Farewell to Celladon on his going into Ireland[144]
On a Juniper-Tree cut down to make Busks[148]
On the Death of Mr. Greenhill the famous Painter[151]
A Ballad on Mr. J. H. to Amoret, asking why I was so sad[153]
Our Caball[156]
The willing Mistress, a Song[163]
Love Arm'd, a Song[163]
The Complaint, a Song[164]
The Invitation, a Song[165]
A Song[165]
To Mr. Creech (under the name of Daphnis) on his Excellent Translation of Lucretius[166]
To Mrs. W. on her excellent Verses (writ in praise of some I had made on the late Earl of Rochester) written in a fit of sickness[171]
The sense of a Letter sent me, made into Verse, to a New Tune[173]
The Return[173]
On a Copy of Verses made in a Dream and sent to me in a Morning before I was awake[174]
To my Lady Morland at Tunbridge[175]
Song to Ceres, in the wavering Nymph or mad Amyntas[177]
A Song in the same Play by the wavering Nymph[177]
The Disappointment[178]
On a Locket of Hair wove in a True-lovers Knot given me by Sir R. O.[182]
The Dream, a Song[183]
A Letter to a Brother of the Pen in Tribulation[185]
The Reflexion, a Song[186]
A Song to Pesibles Tune[188]
A Song on her loving two Equally set by Capt. Pack[189]
The Counsel, a Song set by the same hand[190]
The Surprise, a Song set by Mr. Farmer[191]
A Song[192]
The Invitation, a Song to a New Scotch Tune[192]
Sylvio's Complaint, a Song to a fine Scotch Tune[193]
In Imitation of Horace[195]
To Lysander who made some Verses on a Discourse of Loves Fire[196]
A Dialogue for an entertainment at Court between Damon and Sylvia[198]
On Mr. J. H. In a fit of sickness[200]
To Lysander on some Verses he writ, and asking more for his Heart than 'twas worth[202]
To the Honourable Lord Howard, on his Comedy called the New Utopia[204]
To Lysander at the Musick meeting[207]
An Ode to Love[208]
Love Reveng'd, a Song[209]
A Song to a New Scotch Tune[210]
The Caball at Nickey Nackeys[211]
A Paraphrase on the eleventh Ode out of the first Book of Horace[212]
A Translation[212]
A Paraphrase on [OE]none to Paris[213]
A Voyage to the Isle of Love[223]

FINIS.

[LYCIDUS: OR, THE LOVER IN FASHION, &c.]