Sonnet I.
Delia at Play.
She held aCup and Ballof ivory white,Less whitethe ivory than hersnowyhand!Enrapt, I watch'd her from my secret stand,As now, intent, ininnocentdelight,Hertaperfingers twirl'd the giddy ball,Now tost it, following still withEAGLEsight,Now on the pointed endinfix'dits fall.Marking her sport I mused, and musing sigh'd,Methought theBALLshe play'd with was myHEART;(Alas! that sport likethatshould be her pride!)And thekeen pointwhich steadfast still she eyedWherewith to pierce it, that wasCupid'sdart;Shall I not then the cruel Fair condemnWhoon that dartIMPALESmyBOSOM'S GEM?
She held aCup and Ballof ivory white,Less whitethe ivory than hersnowyhand!Enrapt, I watch'd her from my secret stand,As now, intent, ininnocentdelight,Hertaperfingers twirl'd the giddy ball,Now tost it, following still withEAGLEsight,Now on the pointed endinfix'dits fall.Marking her sport I mused, and musing sigh'd,Methought theBALLshe play'd with was myHEART;(Alas! that sport likethatshould be her pride!)And thekeen pointwhich steadfast still she eyedWherewith to pierce it, that wasCupid'sdart;Shall I not then the cruel Fair condemnWhoon that dartIMPALESmyBOSOM'S GEM?
She held aCup and Ballof ivory white,Less whitethe ivory than hersnowyhand!Enrapt, I watch'd her from my secret stand,As now, intent, ininnocentdelight,Hertaperfingers twirl'd the giddy ball,Now tost it, following still withEAGLEsight,Now on the pointed endinfix'dits fall.Marking her sport I mused, and musing sigh'd,Methought theBALLshe play'd with was myHEART;(Alas! that sport likethatshould be her pride!)And thekeen pointwhich steadfast still she eyedWherewith to pierce it, that wasCupid'sdart;Shall I not then the cruel Fair condemnWhoon that dartIMPALESmyBOSOM'S GEM?
She held aCup and Ballof ivory white,
Less whitethe ivory than hersnowyhand!
Enrapt, I watch'd her from my secret stand,
As now, intent, ininnocentdelight,
Hertaperfingers twirl'd the giddy ball,
Now tost it, following still withEAGLEsight,
Now on the pointed endinfix'dits fall.
Marking her sport I mused, and musing sigh'd,
Methought theBALLshe play'd with was myHEART;
(Alas! that sport likethatshould be her pride!)
And thekeen pointwhich steadfast still she eyed
Wherewith to pierce it, that wasCupid'sdart;
Shall I not then the cruel Fair condemn
Whoon that dartIMPALESmyBOSOM'S GEM?
Sonnet II.
To a Painter attempting Delia's Portrait.
Rash Painter! canst thou give theORB OF DAYIn all its noontide glory? or portrayTheDIAMOND, that athwart thetaper'dhallFlings the rich flashes of its dazzling light?Even if thine art could boast suchmagic might,Yet if it strove to paintmy Angel'sEYE,Here it perforce must fail. Cease! lest I callHeaven's vengeance on thy sin: Must thou be toldTheCRIMEit is to paintDIVINITY?Rash Painter! should the world her charms behold,Dim and defiled, as there they needs must be,They to theirold idolatrywould fall,And bend before her form thepaganknee,Fairer thanVenus, daughter of the sea.
Rash Painter! canst thou give theORB OF DAYIn all its noontide glory? or portrayTheDIAMOND, that athwart thetaper'dhallFlings the rich flashes of its dazzling light?Even if thine art could boast suchmagic might,Yet if it strove to paintmy Angel'sEYE,Here it perforce must fail. Cease! lest I callHeaven's vengeance on thy sin: Must thou be toldTheCRIMEit is to paintDIVINITY?Rash Painter! should the world her charms behold,Dim and defiled, as there they needs must be,They to theirold idolatrywould fall,And bend before her form thepaganknee,Fairer thanVenus, daughter of the sea.
Rash Painter! canst thou give theORB OF DAYIn all its noontide glory? or portrayTheDIAMOND, that athwart thetaper'dhallFlings the rich flashes of its dazzling light?Even if thine art could boast suchmagic might,Yet if it strove to paintmy Angel'sEYE,Here it perforce must fail. Cease! lest I callHeaven's vengeance on thy sin: Must thou be toldTheCRIMEit is to paintDIVINITY?Rash Painter! should the world her charms behold,Dim and defiled, as there they needs must be,They to theirold idolatrywould fall,And bend before her form thepaganknee,Fairer thanVenus, daughter of the sea.
Rash Painter! canst thou give theORB OF DAY
In all its noontide glory? or portray
TheDIAMOND, that athwart thetaper'dhall
Flings the rich flashes of its dazzling light?
Even if thine art could boast suchmagic might,
Yet if it strove to paintmy Angel'sEYE,
Here it perforce must fail. Cease! lest I call
Heaven's vengeance on thy sin: Must thou be told
TheCRIMEit is to paintDIVINITY?
Rash Painter! should the world her charms behold,
Dim and defiled, as there they needs must be,
They to theirold idolatrywould fall,
And bend before her form thepaganknee,
Fairer thanVenus, daughter of the sea.
Sonnet III.
He proves the Existence of a Soul from his Love for Delia.
Some have denied a soul!THEY NEVER LOVED.Far from my Delia now by fate removed,At home, abroad, I view her everywhere;HerONLYin theFLOOD OF NOONI see,MyGoddess-Maid, myOMNIPRESENT FAIR,ForLOVEannihilates the world to me!And when the wearySolaround his bedCloses theSABLE CURTAINSof the night,Sun of my slumbers, on my dazzled sightSheshines confest. Whenevery sound is dead,TheSPIRIT OF HER VOICEcomes then torollThesurge of musico'er my wavy brain.Far, far from her myBodydrags its chain,But sure with DeliaI existA SOUL!
Some have denied a soul!THEY NEVER LOVED.Far from my Delia now by fate removed,At home, abroad, I view her everywhere;HerONLYin theFLOOD OF NOONI see,MyGoddess-Maid, myOMNIPRESENT FAIR,ForLOVEannihilates the world to me!And when the wearySolaround his bedCloses theSABLE CURTAINSof the night,Sun of my slumbers, on my dazzled sightSheshines confest. Whenevery sound is dead,TheSPIRIT OF HER VOICEcomes then torollThesurge of musico'er my wavy brain.Far, far from her myBodydrags its chain,But sure with DeliaI existA SOUL!
Some have denied a soul!THEY NEVER LOVED.Far from my Delia now by fate removed,At home, abroad, I view her everywhere;HerONLYin theFLOOD OF NOONI see,MyGoddess-Maid, myOMNIPRESENT FAIR,ForLOVEannihilates the world to me!And when the wearySolaround his bedCloses theSABLE CURTAINSof the night,Sun of my slumbers, on my dazzled sightSheshines confest. Whenevery sound is dead,TheSPIRIT OF HER VOICEcomes then torollThesurge of musico'er my wavy brain.Far, far from her myBodydrags its chain,But sure with DeliaI existA SOUL!
Some have denied a soul!THEY NEVER LOVED.
Far from my Delia now by fate removed,
At home, abroad, I view her everywhere;
HerONLYin theFLOOD OF NOONI see,
MyGoddess-Maid, myOMNIPRESENT FAIR,
ForLOVEannihilates the world to me!
And when the wearySolaround his bed
Closes theSABLE CURTAINSof the night,
Sun of my slumbers, on my dazzled sight
Sheshines confest. Whenevery sound is dead,
TheSPIRIT OF HER VOICEcomes then toroll
Thesurge of musico'er my wavy brain.
Far, far from her myBodydrags its chain,
But sure with DeliaI existA SOUL!
Sonnet IV.
The Poet expresses his Feelings respecting a Portrait in Delia's Parlour.
I would I were that portly gentlemanWith gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane,Who hangs in Delia's parlour! For whene'erFrom books or needlework her looks arise,On himconverge theSUNBEAMSof her eyes,And heunblamedmay gaze uponmy Fair,And oftmy Fairhisfavour'dform surveys.O happy picture!still onHERto gaze;I envy him! and jealous fear alarms,Lest theSTRONGglanceof thosedivinestcharmsWarm him to life, as in the ancient days,WhenMARBLE MELTEDin Pygmalion's arms.I would I were that portly gentlemanWith gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane.
I would I were that portly gentlemanWith gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane,Who hangs in Delia's parlour! For whene'erFrom books or needlework her looks arise,On himconverge theSUNBEAMSof her eyes,And heunblamedmay gaze uponmy Fair,And oftmy Fairhisfavour'dform surveys.O happy picture!still onHERto gaze;I envy him! and jealous fear alarms,Lest theSTRONGglanceof thosedivinestcharmsWarm him to life, as in the ancient days,WhenMARBLE MELTEDin Pygmalion's arms.I would I were that portly gentlemanWith gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane.
I would I were that portly gentlemanWith gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane,Who hangs in Delia's parlour! For whene'erFrom books or needlework her looks arise,On himconverge theSUNBEAMSof her eyes,And heunblamedmay gaze uponmy Fair,And oftmy Fairhisfavour'dform surveys.O happy picture!still onHERto gaze;I envy him! and jealous fear alarms,Lest theSTRONGglanceof thosedivinestcharmsWarm him to life, as in the ancient days,WhenMARBLE MELTEDin Pygmalion's arms.I would I were that portly gentlemanWith gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane.
I would I were that portly gentleman
With gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane,
Who hangs in Delia's parlour! For whene'er
From books or needlework her looks arise,
On himconverge theSUNBEAMSof her eyes,
And heunblamedmay gaze uponmy Fair,
And oftmy Fairhisfavour'dform surveys.
O happy picture!still onHERto gaze;
I envy him! and jealous fear alarms,
Lest theSTRONGglanceof thosedivinestcharms
Warm him to life, as in the ancient days,
WhenMARBLE MELTEDin Pygmalion's arms.
I would I were that portly gentleman
With gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane.
Elegy I.
The Poet relates how he obtained Delia's Pocket-handkerchief.
'Tis mine! what accents can my joy declare?Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout!Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair,That left thetempting cornerhanging out!I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels,After long travel to some distant shrine,When at the relic of his saint he kneels,For Delia'sPOCKET-HANDKERCHIEF IS MINE.When first withfilching fingersI drew near,Keen hope shot tremulous through every vein;And when thefinish'd deedremoved my fear,Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain.What though the Eighth Commandment rose to mind,It only served a moment's qualm to move;For thefts like this it could not be design'd,The Eighth CommandmentWAS NOT MADE FOR LOVE!Here when she took the macaroons from me,She wiped her mouth to clean the crumbs so sweet!Dear napkin! yes, she wiped her lips in thee!Lipssweeterthan themacaroonsshe eat.And when she took that pinch of Mocabaw,That made my Love sodelicatelysneeze,Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw,And thou art doubly dear for things like these.No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er,Sweet Pocket-handkerchief!thy worth profane;For thou hast touch'd therubiesof my fair,And I will kiss thee o'er and o'er again.
'Tis mine! what accents can my joy declare?Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout!Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair,That left thetempting cornerhanging out!I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels,After long travel to some distant shrine,When at the relic of his saint he kneels,For Delia'sPOCKET-HANDKERCHIEF IS MINE.When first withfilching fingersI drew near,Keen hope shot tremulous through every vein;And when thefinish'd deedremoved my fear,Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain.What though the Eighth Commandment rose to mind,It only served a moment's qualm to move;For thefts like this it could not be design'd,The Eighth CommandmentWAS NOT MADE FOR LOVE!Here when she took the macaroons from me,She wiped her mouth to clean the crumbs so sweet!Dear napkin! yes, she wiped her lips in thee!Lipssweeterthan themacaroonsshe eat.And when she took that pinch of Mocabaw,That made my Love sodelicatelysneeze,Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw,And thou art doubly dear for things like these.No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er,Sweet Pocket-handkerchief!thy worth profane;For thou hast touch'd therubiesof my fair,And I will kiss thee o'er and o'er again.
'Tis mine! what accents can my joy declare?Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout!Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair,That left thetempting cornerhanging out!
'Tis mine! what accents can my joy declare?
Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout!
Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair,
That left thetempting cornerhanging out!
I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels,After long travel to some distant shrine,When at the relic of his saint he kneels,For Delia'sPOCKET-HANDKERCHIEF IS MINE.
I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels,
After long travel to some distant shrine,
When at the relic of his saint he kneels,
For Delia'sPOCKET-HANDKERCHIEF IS MINE.
When first withfilching fingersI drew near,Keen hope shot tremulous through every vein;And when thefinish'd deedremoved my fear,Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain.
When first withfilching fingersI drew near,
Keen hope shot tremulous through every vein;
And when thefinish'd deedremoved my fear,
Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain.
What though the Eighth Commandment rose to mind,It only served a moment's qualm to move;For thefts like this it could not be design'd,The Eighth CommandmentWAS NOT MADE FOR LOVE!
What though the Eighth Commandment rose to mind,
It only served a moment's qualm to move;
For thefts like this it could not be design'd,
The Eighth CommandmentWAS NOT MADE FOR LOVE!
Here when she took the macaroons from me,She wiped her mouth to clean the crumbs so sweet!Dear napkin! yes, she wiped her lips in thee!Lipssweeterthan themacaroonsshe eat.
Here when she took the macaroons from me,
She wiped her mouth to clean the crumbs so sweet!
Dear napkin! yes, she wiped her lips in thee!
Lipssweeterthan themacaroonsshe eat.
And when she took that pinch of Mocabaw,That made my Love sodelicatelysneeze,Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw,And thou art doubly dear for things like these.
And when she took that pinch of Mocabaw,
That made my Love sodelicatelysneeze,
Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw,
And thou art doubly dear for things like these.
No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er,Sweet Pocket-handkerchief!thy worth profane;For thou hast touch'd therubiesof my fair,And I will kiss thee o'er and o'er again.
No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er,
Sweet Pocket-handkerchief!thy worth profane;
For thou hast touch'd therubiesof my fair,
And I will kiss thee o'er and o'er again.
Elegy II.
The Poet invokes the Spirits of the Elements to approach Delia.—He describes Her Singing.
Ye sylphs, whobanqueton my Delia's blush,Who on her locks ofFLOATING GOLDrepose,Dip in her cheek yourGOSSAMERY BRUSH,And with its bloom of beautytingeTHE ROSE.Hover around her lips onrainbow wing,Load from her honey'd breath yourviewlessfeet,Bear thence a richer fragrance for the SpringAnd make the lily and the violet sweet.YeGNOMES, whose toil through many a dateless yearIts nurture to the infant gem supplies,From central caverns bring your diamonds here,Toripen in the sunof Delia's eyes.And ye who bathe in Etna's lava springs,Spirits of fire! to see my love advance;Fly,Salamanders, onAsbestos'wings,To wanton in my Delia'sfieryglance.She weeps, she weeps! her eye with anguish swells,Some tale of sorrow melts myFEELING GIRL!Nymphs!catch the tears, and in Your lucid shellsEnclose them,EMBRYOS OF THE ORIENT PEARL.She sings! the Nightingale with envy hears,TheCherublistens from his starry throne,And motionless are stopt the attentiveSPHERES,To hearmore heavenly musicthan their own.Cease, Delia, cease! for all theANGEL THRONG,Hearkening to thee, let sleep their golden wires!Cease, Delia, cease, thattoo surpassingsong,Lest,stung to envy, they should break their lyres.Cease, ere my senses are to madness drivenBy the strong joy! Cease, Delia, lest my soul,Enrapt, alreadyTHINK ITSELF IN HEAVEN,And burst the feeble Body's frail control.
Ye sylphs, whobanqueton my Delia's blush,Who on her locks ofFLOATING GOLDrepose,Dip in her cheek yourGOSSAMERY BRUSH,And with its bloom of beautytingeTHE ROSE.Hover around her lips onrainbow wing,Load from her honey'd breath yourviewlessfeet,Bear thence a richer fragrance for the SpringAnd make the lily and the violet sweet.YeGNOMES, whose toil through many a dateless yearIts nurture to the infant gem supplies,From central caverns bring your diamonds here,Toripen in the sunof Delia's eyes.And ye who bathe in Etna's lava springs,Spirits of fire! to see my love advance;Fly,Salamanders, onAsbestos'wings,To wanton in my Delia'sfieryglance.She weeps, she weeps! her eye with anguish swells,Some tale of sorrow melts myFEELING GIRL!Nymphs!catch the tears, and in Your lucid shellsEnclose them,EMBRYOS OF THE ORIENT PEARL.She sings! the Nightingale with envy hears,TheCherublistens from his starry throne,And motionless are stopt the attentiveSPHERES,To hearmore heavenly musicthan their own.Cease, Delia, cease! for all theANGEL THRONG,Hearkening to thee, let sleep their golden wires!Cease, Delia, cease, thattoo surpassingsong,Lest,stung to envy, they should break their lyres.Cease, ere my senses are to madness drivenBy the strong joy! Cease, Delia, lest my soul,Enrapt, alreadyTHINK ITSELF IN HEAVEN,And burst the feeble Body's frail control.
Ye sylphs, whobanqueton my Delia's blush,Who on her locks ofFLOATING GOLDrepose,Dip in her cheek yourGOSSAMERY BRUSH,And with its bloom of beautytingeTHE ROSE.
Ye sylphs, whobanqueton my Delia's blush,
Who on her locks ofFLOATING GOLDrepose,
Dip in her cheek yourGOSSAMERY BRUSH,
And with its bloom of beautytingeTHE ROSE.
Hover around her lips onrainbow wing,Load from her honey'd breath yourviewlessfeet,Bear thence a richer fragrance for the SpringAnd make the lily and the violet sweet.
Hover around her lips onrainbow wing,
Load from her honey'd breath yourviewlessfeet,
Bear thence a richer fragrance for the Spring
And make the lily and the violet sweet.
YeGNOMES, whose toil through many a dateless yearIts nurture to the infant gem supplies,From central caverns bring your diamonds here,Toripen in the sunof Delia's eyes.
YeGNOMES, whose toil through many a dateless year
Its nurture to the infant gem supplies,
From central caverns bring your diamonds here,
Toripen in the sunof Delia's eyes.
And ye who bathe in Etna's lava springs,Spirits of fire! to see my love advance;Fly,Salamanders, onAsbestos'wings,To wanton in my Delia'sfieryglance.
And ye who bathe in Etna's lava springs,
Spirits of fire! to see my love advance;
Fly,Salamanders, onAsbestos'wings,
To wanton in my Delia'sfieryglance.
She weeps, she weeps! her eye with anguish swells,Some tale of sorrow melts myFEELING GIRL!Nymphs!catch the tears, and in Your lucid shellsEnclose them,EMBRYOS OF THE ORIENT PEARL.
She weeps, she weeps! her eye with anguish swells,
Some tale of sorrow melts myFEELING GIRL!
Nymphs!catch the tears, and in Your lucid shells
Enclose them,EMBRYOS OF THE ORIENT PEARL.
She sings! the Nightingale with envy hears,TheCherublistens from his starry throne,And motionless are stopt the attentiveSPHERES,To hearmore heavenly musicthan their own.
She sings! the Nightingale with envy hears,
TheCherublistens from his starry throne,
And motionless are stopt the attentiveSPHERES,
To hearmore heavenly musicthan their own.
Cease, Delia, cease! for all theANGEL THRONG,Hearkening to thee, let sleep their golden wires!Cease, Delia, cease, thattoo surpassingsong,Lest,stung to envy, they should break their lyres.
Cease, Delia, cease! for all theANGEL THRONG,
Hearkening to thee, let sleep their golden wires!
Cease, Delia, cease, thattoo surpassingsong,
Lest,stung to envy, they should break their lyres.
Cease, ere my senses are to madness drivenBy the strong joy! Cease, Delia, lest my soul,Enrapt, alreadyTHINK ITSELF IN HEAVEN,And burst the feeble Body's frail control.
Cease, ere my senses are to madness driven
By the strong joy! Cease, Delia, lest my soul,
Enrapt, alreadyTHINK ITSELF IN HEAVEN,
And burst the feeble Body's frail control.
Elegy III.
The Poet Expatiates on the Beauty of Delia's Hair.
The comb between whose ivory teeth she strainsThe straitening curls of gold sobeamy bright,Not spotless merely from the touch remains,But issues forthmore pure, moremilky white.The rose-pomatum that theFRISEURspreadsSometimes with honour'd fingers for my fair,No added perfume on her tresses sheds,But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair.Happy theFRISEURwho in Delia's hairWith licensed fingers uncontrol'd may rove!And happy in his death theDANCING BEAR,Who died to make pomatum for myLOVE.Oh could I hope that e'er my favour'd laysMightcurl those lovely lockswith conscious pride,Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan Shepherd's praise,I'd envy them, nor wish reward beside.Cupid has strung from you, O tresses fine,The bow that in my breast impell'd his dart;From you, sweet locks! he wove the subtile lineWherewith the urchinangled forMY HEART.Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threadsThat from the silk-worm,self-interr'd, proceed;Fine as theGLEAMY GOSSAMERthat spreadsIts filmy web-work o'er the tangled mead.Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elateMy captivehearthashandcuff'din a chain,Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate,That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main.TheSYLPHSthat round her radiant locks repairInflowing lustrebathe their brightening wings;AndELFIN MINSTRELSwith assiduous careThe ringlets rob forFAERY FIDDLE-STRINGS.
The comb between whose ivory teeth she strainsThe straitening curls of gold sobeamy bright,Not spotless merely from the touch remains,But issues forthmore pure, moremilky white.The rose-pomatum that theFRISEURspreadsSometimes with honour'd fingers for my fair,No added perfume on her tresses sheds,But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair.Happy theFRISEURwho in Delia's hairWith licensed fingers uncontrol'd may rove!And happy in his death theDANCING BEAR,Who died to make pomatum for myLOVE.Oh could I hope that e'er my favour'd laysMightcurl those lovely lockswith conscious pride,Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan Shepherd's praise,I'd envy them, nor wish reward beside.Cupid has strung from you, O tresses fine,The bow that in my breast impell'd his dart;From you, sweet locks! he wove the subtile lineWherewith the urchinangled forMY HEART.Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threadsThat from the silk-worm,self-interr'd, proceed;Fine as theGLEAMY GOSSAMERthat spreadsIts filmy web-work o'er the tangled mead.Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elateMy captivehearthashandcuff'din a chain,Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate,That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main.TheSYLPHSthat round her radiant locks repairInflowing lustrebathe their brightening wings;AndELFIN MINSTRELSwith assiduous careThe ringlets rob forFAERY FIDDLE-STRINGS.
The comb between whose ivory teeth she strainsThe straitening curls of gold sobeamy bright,Not spotless merely from the touch remains,But issues forthmore pure, moremilky white.
The comb between whose ivory teeth she strains
The straitening curls of gold sobeamy bright,
Not spotless merely from the touch remains,
But issues forthmore pure, moremilky white.
The rose-pomatum that theFRISEURspreadsSometimes with honour'd fingers for my fair,No added perfume on her tresses sheds,But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair.
The rose-pomatum that theFRISEURspreads
Sometimes with honour'd fingers for my fair,
No added perfume on her tresses sheds,
But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair.
Happy theFRISEURwho in Delia's hairWith licensed fingers uncontrol'd may rove!And happy in his death theDANCING BEAR,Who died to make pomatum for myLOVE.
Happy theFRISEURwho in Delia's hair
With licensed fingers uncontrol'd may rove!
And happy in his death theDANCING BEAR,
Who died to make pomatum for myLOVE.
Oh could I hope that e'er my favour'd laysMightcurl those lovely lockswith conscious pride,Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan Shepherd's praise,I'd envy them, nor wish reward beside.
Oh could I hope that e'er my favour'd lays
Mightcurl those lovely lockswith conscious pride,
Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan Shepherd's praise,
I'd envy them, nor wish reward beside.
Cupid has strung from you, O tresses fine,The bow that in my breast impell'd his dart;From you, sweet locks! he wove the subtile lineWherewith the urchinangled forMY HEART.
Cupid has strung from you, O tresses fine,
The bow that in my breast impell'd his dart;
From you, sweet locks! he wove the subtile line
Wherewith the urchinangled forMY HEART.
Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threadsThat from the silk-worm,self-interr'd, proceed;Fine as theGLEAMY GOSSAMERthat spreadsIts filmy web-work o'er the tangled mead.
Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threads
That from the silk-worm,self-interr'd, proceed;
Fine as theGLEAMY GOSSAMERthat spreads
Its filmy web-work o'er the tangled mead.
Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elateMy captivehearthashandcuff'din a chain,Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate,That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main.
Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elate
My captivehearthashandcuff'din a chain,
Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate,
That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main.
TheSYLPHSthat round her radiant locks repairInflowing lustrebathe their brightening wings;AndELFIN MINSTRELSwith assiduous careThe ringlets rob forFAERY FIDDLE-STRINGS.
TheSYLPHSthat round her radiant locks repair
Inflowing lustrebathe their brightening wings;
AndELFIN MINSTRELSwith assiduous care
The ringlets rob forFAERY FIDDLE-STRINGS.
Elegy IV.
The Poet relates how he stole a Lock of Delia's Hair, and her Anger.
Oh! be the day accurst that gave me birth!Ye Seas, to swallow me in kindness rise!Fall on me, Mountains! and thou merciful Earth,Open, and hide me from my Delia's eyes!Let universal Chaos now return,Now let the central fires their prison burst,And earth and heaven and air and oceanburn...For DeliaFROWNS... SHE FROWNS,and I am curst!Oh! I could dare the fury of the fightWhere hostileMILLIONSsought my single life;Would stormVOLCANO BATTERIESwith delight,And grapple withGRIM DEATHin glorious strife.Oh! I could brave the bolts of angry Jove,When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies;What ishis wrathto that ofHERI love?What is hisLIGHTNINGto myDelia's eyes?Go, fatal lock! I cast thee to the wind;YeserpentCURLS, yepoison-tendrils, go!Would I could tear thy memory from my mind,Accursed lock,... thou cause of all my woe!Seize theCURST CURLS, ye Furies, as they fly!Demons of Darkness, guard the infernal roll,That thence your cruel vengeance when I dieMayknit theKNOTS OF TORTUREfor mySOUL.Last night, ... oh, hear me, Heaven, and grant my prayer!TheBOOK OF FATEbefore thy suppliant lay,And let me from its ample records tearOnly the singlePAGE OF YESTERDAY.Or let me meetold Timeupon his flight,And I willSTOP HIMon his restless way:Omnipotent in Love's resistless might,I'll force him back theROAD OF YESTERDAY.Last night, as o'er the page of Love's despair,My Delia bentdeliciouslyto grieve,I stood atreacherous loitererby her chair,And drew theFATAL SCISSORSfrom my sleeve:And would that at that instant o'er my threadTheshears of Atroposhad open'd then;And when I reft the lock from Delia's head,Had cut me sudden from the sons of men!She heard the scissors that fair lock divide,And whilst my heart with transport panted big,She cast aFURYfrown on me, and cried,'You stupidPUPPY,... you have spoil'd my Wig!'
Oh! be the day accurst that gave me birth!Ye Seas, to swallow me in kindness rise!Fall on me, Mountains! and thou merciful Earth,Open, and hide me from my Delia's eyes!Let universal Chaos now return,Now let the central fires their prison burst,And earth and heaven and air and oceanburn...For DeliaFROWNS... SHE FROWNS,and I am curst!Oh! I could dare the fury of the fightWhere hostileMILLIONSsought my single life;Would stormVOLCANO BATTERIESwith delight,And grapple withGRIM DEATHin glorious strife.Oh! I could brave the bolts of angry Jove,When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies;What ishis wrathto that ofHERI love?What is hisLIGHTNINGto myDelia's eyes?Go, fatal lock! I cast thee to the wind;YeserpentCURLS, yepoison-tendrils, go!Would I could tear thy memory from my mind,Accursed lock,... thou cause of all my woe!Seize theCURST CURLS, ye Furies, as they fly!Demons of Darkness, guard the infernal roll,That thence your cruel vengeance when I dieMayknit theKNOTS OF TORTUREfor mySOUL.Last night, ... oh, hear me, Heaven, and grant my prayer!TheBOOK OF FATEbefore thy suppliant lay,And let me from its ample records tearOnly the singlePAGE OF YESTERDAY.Or let me meetold Timeupon his flight,And I willSTOP HIMon his restless way:Omnipotent in Love's resistless might,I'll force him back theROAD OF YESTERDAY.Last night, as o'er the page of Love's despair,My Delia bentdeliciouslyto grieve,I stood atreacherous loitererby her chair,And drew theFATAL SCISSORSfrom my sleeve:And would that at that instant o'er my threadTheshears of Atroposhad open'd then;And when I reft the lock from Delia's head,Had cut me sudden from the sons of men!She heard the scissors that fair lock divide,And whilst my heart with transport panted big,She cast aFURYfrown on me, and cried,'You stupidPUPPY,... you have spoil'd my Wig!'
Oh! be the day accurst that gave me birth!Ye Seas, to swallow me in kindness rise!Fall on me, Mountains! and thou merciful Earth,Open, and hide me from my Delia's eyes!
Oh! be the day accurst that gave me birth!
Ye Seas, to swallow me in kindness rise!
Fall on me, Mountains! and thou merciful Earth,
Open, and hide me from my Delia's eyes!
Let universal Chaos now return,Now let the central fires their prison burst,And earth and heaven and air and oceanburn...For DeliaFROWNS... SHE FROWNS,and I am curst!
Let universal Chaos now return,
Now let the central fires their prison burst,
And earth and heaven and air and oceanburn...
For DeliaFROWNS... SHE FROWNS,and I am curst!
Oh! I could dare the fury of the fightWhere hostileMILLIONSsought my single life;Would stormVOLCANO BATTERIESwith delight,And grapple withGRIM DEATHin glorious strife.
Oh! I could dare the fury of the fight
Where hostileMILLIONSsought my single life;
Would stormVOLCANO BATTERIESwith delight,
And grapple withGRIM DEATHin glorious strife.
Oh! I could brave the bolts of angry Jove,When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies;What ishis wrathto that ofHERI love?What is hisLIGHTNINGto myDelia's eyes?
Oh! I could brave the bolts of angry Jove,
When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies;
What ishis wrathto that ofHERI love?
What is hisLIGHTNINGto myDelia's eyes?
Go, fatal lock! I cast thee to the wind;YeserpentCURLS, yepoison-tendrils, go!Would I could tear thy memory from my mind,Accursed lock,... thou cause of all my woe!
Go, fatal lock! I cast thee to the wind;
YeserpentCURLS, yepoison-tendrils, go!
Would I could tear thy memory from my mind,
Accursed lock,... thou cause of all my woe!
Seize theCURST CURLS, ye Furies, as they fly!Demons of Darkness, guard the infernal roll,That thence your cruel vengeance when I dieMayknit theKNOTS OF TORTUREfor mySOUL.
Seize theCURST CURLS, ye Furies, as they fly!
Demons of Darkness, guard the infernal roll,
That thence your cruel vengeance when I die
Mayknit theKNOTS OF TORTUREfor mySOUL.
Last night, ... oh, hear me, Heaven, and grant my prayer!TheBOOK OF FATEbefore thy suppliant lay,And let me from its ample records tearOnly the singlePAGE OF YESTERDAY.
Last night, ... oh, hear me, Heaven, and grant my prayer!
TheBOOK OF FATEbefore thy suppliant lay,
And let me from its ample records tear
Only the singlePAGE OF YESTERDAY.
Or let me meetold Timeupon his flight,And I willSTOP HIMon his restless way:Omnipotent in Love's resistless might,I'll force him back theROAD OF YESTERDAY.
Or let me meetold Timeupon his flight,
And I willSTOP HIMon his restless way:
Omnipotent in Love's resistless might,
I'll force him back theROAD OF YESTERDAY.
Last night, as o'er the page of Love's despair,My Delia bentdeliciouslyto grieve,I stood atreacherous loitererby her chair,And drew theFATAL SCISSORSfrom my sleeve:
Last night, as o'er the page of Love's despair,
My Delia bentdeliciouslyto grieve,
I stood atreacherous loitererby her chair,
And drew theFATAL SCISSORSfrom my sleeve:
And would that at that instant o'er my threadTheshears of Atroposhad open'd then;And when I reft the lock from Delia's head,Had cut me sudden from the sons of men!
And would that at that instant o'er my thread
Theshears of Atroposhad open'd then;
And when I reft the lock from Delia's head,
Had cut me sudden from the sons of men!
She heard the scissors that fair lock divide,And whilst my heart with transport panted big,She cast aFURYfrown on me, and cried,'You stupidPUPPY,... you have spoil'd my Wig!'
She heard the scissors that fair lock divide,
And whilst my heart with transport panted big,
She cast aFURYfrown on me, and cried,
'You stupidPUPPY,... you have spoil'd my Wig!'