« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
All I of Venus ask is this,
No more to let us join;
To die and think you mine.
If wine and music have the power
To ease the sickness of the soul, Let Phoebus every string explore,
And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl. Let them their friendly aid employ
To make my Chloe's absence light, And seek for pleasure to destroy
The sorrows of this live-long night.
But she to-morrow will return;
Venus be thou to-morrow great, Thy myrtles strew, thy odours burn,
And meet thy fav’rite nymph in state. Kind Goddess, to no other pow'rs , Doo **
Let us to-morrow's blessings own';
And all the day be thiñe alone.
W HEN Delia on the plain appears,
Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear
If she some other swain commend,
When she is absent, I no more
When fond of power, of beauty vain, Her nets she spread for every swain, I strove to hate, but vainly strove; Tell me, my heart, if this be love?
Ah! why must words my flame reveal?
What all my actions prove?
Betrays my secret love.
In all their sports upon the plain
And him alone approve ;
And can he doubt my love?
Whene'er we meet, my looks confess
And every care remove;
Too fast for my fond love.
Does any speak in Damon's praise,
I every word approve;
Alas! because I love.
But ah! what tortures tear my heart,
The least desire to rove!
For ah! that hate is love.
Then ask not words, but read mine eyes, Believe my blushes, trust my sighs,
My passion these will prove; Words oft deceive and spring from art, The true expressions of my heart
To Damon, must be love.
Come here, fond youth, whoe'er thou be,
That boasts to love as well as me,
Come hither and thy flame approve;
I'll teach thee what it is to love, And by what marks true passion may be found.
It is to be all bath'd in tears,
To live upon a smile for years,
To kneel, to languish and implore,
It is to gaze upon her eyes
As wretches feel who wait their doom ;
Nor must one ruder thought presume Tho' but in whispers breath’d, to meet her ear.