LOVE-LETTERSFROMA NUN TO A CAVALIER

LOVE-LETTERSFROMA NUN TO A CAVALIERLETTER I

Oh! the unhappy Joys which Love contains,How short the Pleasures, and how long the Pains!Curs’d be the treach’rous Hopes that drew me on,And made me fondly to my Ruin run.What I the Blessing of my Life design’dIs now become the Torment of my Mind:A Torment! which is equally as greatAs is his Absence that doth it create.Heav’ns! must this Absence then for ever last,This Absence! which does all my comfort blast?Must I no more enjoy the pleasing LightThat charm’d my Heart with Rapture and Delight?Must I no more those lovely Eyes beholdWhich have so oft their Master’s Passion told?{Nor was I wanting in the same intent;{A thousand times my Eyes in Flashes sent{The Dictates of my Heart, and shew’d you what they meant.But now they must be other ways employ’d:When I reflect on what I have enjoy’dTears of their own accord in Streams will flow,To think I ’m scorned, and left by faithless you.{And yet my Passion does so far exceed{A vulgar Flame, that I with Pleasure bleed,{And doat upon the Torments which from you proceed.From the first moment I beheld your Face,To you I dedicated all my Days:Your Eyes at first an easie Conquest gain’d,Which since they have but too too well maintain’d.Your Name each Hour I constantly repeat;But what’s (alas!) the Comfort which I meet?Nought but my wretched Fate’s too true Advice,Which whispers to me in such Words as these:Ah! Mariane, why do’st hope in vainTo see thy lovely Fugitive again?The dear, false, cruel Man ’s for ever gone,And thou, unhappy thou! art left alone:Gone is the Tyrant, slighting all thy Charms,And longs to languish in another’s Arms.In vain you weep, in vain you sigh and mourn,For he will never, never more return.To fly from thee, he left his Downy Ease,And scorn’d the Dangers of the raging Seas.In France, dissolv’d in Pleasures, now he lies,And for new Beauties every moment dies;{The Joys which once he with such Ardour sought{Are now (alas!) all vanish’d and forgot;{Nor art Thou ever present in his Thought.——But hold! my Passion hurries me too far,And makes me think you falser than you are.You’ve, sure, more Honour than to use me soFor what I have endur’d and done for you,Forget me! ’tis impossible you shou’d;Nay, I believe you cannot if you wou’d.My Case is bad enough without that Curse,I need not find fresh Plagues to make it worse.And when I think with how much care you stroveTo let me see at first, your dawning Love;When I reflect upon the Bliss it brought,The Pleasure is too great to be forgot;And I shou’d think I were ungrateful grown,Should I not love you, tho’ by youundone.——Yet oh! the Mem’ry of my former Joys,So hard’s my Fate, my present Ease destroys.’Tis strange that what gave such delight before,Shou’d serve to make me now lament themore.——A Thousand Passions, not to be exprest,Your Letter rais’d in my distracted Breast;{My vanquish’d Senses from their Office fled,{A long time stupid on the ground I laid,{And since I’ve often wish’d I had been dead.But I unhappily reviv’d againTo suffer greater Torment, greater Pain;A Thousand Evils I each Day endure,Which nothing but the Sight of you can cure;Yet I submit, without repining too,Because the ills I bear proceed fromyou.——And ’tis because you know the Pow’r you have,You use me thus, and make me such a Slave.Oh! give me leave tospeak——Is this the Recompense you think is due,To those that sacrifice their Lives for you?Yet use me as you will, to my last Breath,Tho’ loath’d by you, I’ll keep my plightedFaith.——And did you understand what Pleasure liesIn being constant, you wou’d Change despise.You’ll never meet with one will prove so kind,Tho’ in another you more Beauty find.Yet I can tell the time, tho’ now ’tis gone,(Poor as it is) when mine has pleas’dalone.——You need not bid me keep you in my Mind,I’m too much of myself to that inclin’d.I can’t forget you, nor those Hopes you giveOf your return, in Portugal to live.Cou’d I from this unhappy Cloister break,You thro’ the Perils of the World I’d seek.I’d follow where you went, without Regret,And constantly upon your Fortune wait,Think not I keep these Hopes to ease my Grief,Or bring to my despairing Soul Relief;No, I’m too well acquainted with my Fate,And know I’m born to beunfortunate.——{Yet while I write, some glimmering Hopes appear{That yield a respite to my wild Despair,{And some small Ease afford amidst my Care.Tell me, what made you press my Ruin so?Why with your Craft a harmless Maid undo?Why strove t’ ensnare my too-unguarded Heart,When you were sure ere long you shou’d depart?What Injury had I e’er done to you,To make you with such Wiles, my Innocence pursue?But pardon me, (thou Charmer of my Soul!)For I will charge you with no crime at all.Let me hear oft from you, where-e’er you are,For I methinks shou’d in your Fortune share,But above all, I beg you, by the LoveWhich once you swore shou’d ever constant prove;By all those Vows, which you so often madeWhen on my panting Bosom you have laid,Let me no longer this sad Absence mourn,But bless me, bless me with your kind Return.Adieu—and yet so tender am I grown,I know not how to end these Lines so soon;Oh I that I could but in their Room conveyMyself, thou lovely faithless Man, to Thee!{Fool that I am, I quite distracted grow,{And talk of things impossible to do;{Adieu,—for I can say no more—Adieu.—Love me for ever, and I’ll bear my Fate,(Hard as it is) without the least Regret.

Oh! the unhappy Joys which Love contains,

How short the Pleasures, and how long the Pains!

Curs’d be the treach’rous Hopes that drew me on,

And made me fondly to my Ruin run.

What I the Blessing of my Life design’d

Is now become the Torment of my Mind:

A Torment! which is equally as great

As is his Absence that doth it create.

Heav’ns! must this Absence then for ever last,

This Absence! which does all my comfort blast?

Must I no more enjoy the pleasing Light

That charm’d my Heart with Rapture and Delight?

Must I no more those lovely Eyes behold

Which have so oft their Master’s Passion told?

{Nor was I wanting in the same intent;

{A thousand times my Eyes in Flashes sent

{The Dictates of my Heart, and shew’d you what they meant.

But now they must be other ways employ’d:

When I reflect on what I have enjoy’d

Tears of their own accord in Streams will flow,

To think I ’m scorned, and left by faithless you.

{And yet my Passion does so far exceed{A vulgar Flame, that I with Pleasure bleed,{And doat upon the Torments which from you proceed.From the first moment I beheld your Face,To you I dedicated all my Days:Your Eyes at first an easie Conquest gain’d,Which since they have but too too well maintain’d.Your Name each Hour I constantly repeat;But what’s (alas!) the Comfort which I meet?Nought but my wretched Fate’s too true Advice,Which whispers to me in such Words as these:Ah! Mariane, why do’st hope in vainTo see thy lovely Fugitive again?The dear, false, cruel Man ’s for ever gone,And thou, unhappy thou! art left alone:Gone is the Tyrant, slighting all thy Charms,And longs to languish in another’s Arms.In vain you weep, in vain you sigh and mourn,For he will never, never more return.To fly from thee, he left his Downy Ease,And scorn’d the Dangers of the raging Seas.In France, dissolv’d in Pleasures, now he lies,And for new Beauties every moment dies;{The Joys which once he with such Ardour sought{Are now (alas!) all vanish’d and forgot;{Nor art Thou ever present in his Thought.——

{And yet my Passion does so far exceed

{A vulgar Flame, that I with Pleasure bleed,

{And doat upon the Torments which from you proceed.

From the first moment I beheld your Face,

To you I dedicated all my Days:

Your Eyes at first an easie Conquest gain’d,

Which since they have but too too well maintain’d.

Your Name each Hour I constantly repeat;

But what’s (alas!) the Comfort which I meet?

Nought but my wretched Fate’s too true Advice,

Which whispers to me in such Words as these:

Ah! Mariane, why do’st hope in vain

To see thy lovely Fugitive again?

The dear, false, cruel Man ’s for ever gone,

And thou, unhappy thou! art left alone:

Gone is the Tyrant, slighting all thy Charms,

And longs to languish in another’s Arms.

In vain you weep, in vain you sigh and mourn,

For he will never, never more return.

To fly from thee, he left his Downy Ease,

And scorn’d the Dangers of the raging Seas.

In France, dissolv’d in Pleasures, now he lies,

And for new Beauties every moment dies;

{The Joys which once he with such Ardour sought

{Are now (alas!) all vanish’d and forgot;

{Nor art Thou ever present in his Thought.——

But hold! my Passion hurries me too far,And makes me think you falser than you are.You’ve, sure, more Honour than to use me soFor what I have endur’d and done for you,Forget me! ’tis impossible you shou’d;Nay, I believe you cannot if you wou’d.My Case is bad enough without that Curse,I need not find fresh Plagues to make it worse.And when I think with how much care you stroveTo let me see at first, your dawning Love;When I reflect upon the Bliss it brought,The Pleasure is too great to be forgot;And I shou’d think I were ungrateful grown,Should I not love you, tho’ by youundone.——

But hold! my Passion hurries me too far,

And makes me think you falser than you are.

You’ve, sure, more Honour than to use me so

For what I have endur’d and done for you,

Forget me! ’tis impossible you shou’d;

Nay, I believe you cannot if you wou’d.

My Case is bad enough without that Curse,

I need not find fresh Plagues to make it worse.

And when I think with how much care you strove

To let me see at first, your dawning Love;

When I reflect upon the Bliss it brought,

The Pleasure is too great to be forgot;

And I shou’d think I were ungrateful grown,

Should I not love you, tho’ by youundone.——

Yet oh! the Mem’ry of my former Joys,So hard’s my Fate, my present Ease destroys.’Tis strange that what gave such delight before,Shou’d serve to make me now lament themore.——

Yet oh! the Mem’ry of my former Joys,

So hard’s my Fate, my present Ease destroys.

’Tis strange that what gave such delight before,

Shou’d serve to make me now lament themore.——

A Thousand Passions, not to be exprest,Your Letter rais’d in my distracted Breast;{My vanquish’d Senses from their Office fled,{A long time stupid on the ground I laid,{And since I’ve often wish’d I had been dead.But I unhappily reviv’d againTo suffer greater Torment, greater Pain;A Thousand Evils I each Day endure,Which nothing but the Sight of you can cure;Yet I submit, without repining too,Because the ills I bear proceed fromyou.——

A Thousand Passions, not to be exprest,

Your Letter rais’d in my distracted Breast;

{My vanquish’d Senses from their Office fled,

{A long time stupid on the ground I laid,

{And since I’ve often wish’d I had been dead.

But I unhappily reviv’d again

To suffer greater Torment, greater Pain;

A Thousand Evils I each Day endure,

Which nothing but the Sight of you can cure;

Yet I submit, without repining too,

Because the ills I bear proceed fromyou.——

And ’tis because you know the Pow’r you have,You use me thus, and make me such a Slave.Oh! give me leave tospeak——Is this the Recompense you think is due,To those that sacrifice their Lives for you?Yet use me as you will, to my last Breath,Tho’ loath’d by you, I’ll keep my plightedFaith.——

And ’tis because you know the Pow’r you have,

You use me thus, and make me such a Slave.

Oh! give me leave tospeak——

Is this the Recompense you think is due,

To those that sacrifice their Lives for you?

Yet use me as you will, to my last Breath,

Tho’ loath’d by you, I’ll keep my plightedFaith.——

And did you understand what Pleasure liesIn being constant, you wou’d Change despise.You’ll never meet with one will prove so kind,Tho’ in another you more Beauty find.Yet I can tell the time, tho’ now ’tis gone,(Poor as it is) when mine has pleas’dalone.——

And did you understand what Pleasure lies

In being constant, you wou’d Change despise.

You’ll never meet with one will prove so kind,

Tho’ in another you more Beauty find.

Yet I can tell the time, tho’ now ’tis gone,

(Poor as it is) when mine has pleas’dalone.——

You need not bid me keep you in my Mind,I’m too much of myself to that inclin’d.I can’t forget you, nor those Hopes you giveOf your return, in Portugal to live.Cou’d I from this unhappy Cloister break,You thro’ the Perils of the World I’d seek.I’d follow where you went, without Regret,And constantly upon your Fortune wait,Think not I keep these Hopes to ease my Grief,Or bring to my despairing Soul Relief;No, I’m too well acquainted with my Fate,And know I’m born to beunfortunate.——

You need not bid me keep you in my Mind,

I’m too much of myself to that inclin’d.

I can’t forget you, nor those Hopes you give

Of your return, in Portugal to live.

Cou’d I from this unhappy Cloister break,

You thro’ the Perils of the World I’d seek.

I’d follow where you went, without Regret,

And constantly upon your Fortune wait,

Think not I keep these Hopes to ease my Grief,

Or bring to my despairing Soul Relief;

No, I’m too well acquainted with my Fate,

And know I’m born to beunfortunate.——

{Yet while I write, some glimmering Hopes appear{That yield a respite to my wild Despair,{And some small Ease afford amidst my Care.Tell me, what made you press my Ruin so?Why with your Craft a harmless Maid undo?Why strove t’ ensnare my too-unguarded Heart,When you were sure ere long you shou’d depart?What Injury had I e’er done to you,To make you with such Wiles, my Innocence pursue?

{Yet while I write, some glimmering Hopes appear

{That yield a respite to my wild Despair,

{And some small Ease afford amidst my Care.

Tell me, what made you press my Ruin so?

Why with your Craft a harmless Maid undo?

Why strove t’ ensnare my too-unguarded Heart,

When you were sure ere long you shou’d depart?

What Injury had I e’er done to you,

To make you with such Wiles, my Innocence pursue?

But pardon me, (thou Charmer of my Soul!)For I will charge you with no crime at all.Let me hear oft from you, where-e’er you are,For I methinks shou’d in your Fortune share,But above all, I beg you, by the LoveWhich once you swore shou’d ever constant prove;By all those Vows, which you so often madeWhen on my panting Bosom you have laid,Let me no longer this sad Absence mourn,But bless me, bless me with your kind Return.Adieu—and yet so tender am I grown,I know not how to end these Lines so soon;Oh I that I could but in their Room conveyMyself, thou lovely faithless Man, to Thee!{Fool that I am, I quite distracted grow,{And talk of things impossible to do;{Adieu,—for I can say no more—Adieu.—Love me for ever, and I’ll bear my Fate,(Hard as it is) without the least Regret.

But pardon me, (thou Charmer of my Soul!)

For I will charge you with no crime at all.

Let me hear oft from you, where-e’er you are,

For I methinks shou’d in your Fortune share,

But above all, I beg you, by the Love

Which once you swore shou’d ever constant prove;

By all those Vows, which you so often made

When on my panting Bosom you have laid,

Let me no longer this sad Absence mourn,

But bless me, bless me with your kind Return.

Adieu—and yet so tender am I grown,

I know not how to end these Lines so soon;

Oh I that I could but in their Room convey

Myself, thou lovely faithless Man, to Thee!

{Fool that I am, I quite distracted grow,

{And talk of things impossible to do;

{Adieu,—for I can say no more—Adieu.—

Love me for ever, and I’ll bear my Fate,

(Hard as it is) without the least Regret.

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