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Beauty has such resistless power,
But ah! sweet maid, my counsel hear :
and scorn the frowns of age.
What cruel answer have I heard,
how fell that bitter word
Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
ELL me no more of pointed darts, Of flaming eyes, and bleeding hearts,
The hyperboles of love!
Why call me angel ! why divine ! Why must my eyes the stars outshine !
Can such deceit prevail ? For shame! forbear this common rule, 'Tis low, 'tis insult, calls me fool:
With me 'twill always fail.
Would you obtain my honest heart,
Pay homage to my mind:
Nor leavęs a rose behind,
Let then your open manly sense
And to my worth be true :
But those I find in you.
I envy not the proud their wealth,
Their equipage and state; Give me but innocence and health,
I ask not to be great.
I in this sweet retirement find
A joy unknown to kings;
Seem vain and empty things.
Great Cincinnatus at his plough,
With brighter lustre shone, Than guilty Cæsar e'er could shew,
Though seated on a throne.
Tumultuous days and restless nights,
Ambition ever knows,
Of study and repose.
Then free from envy, care, and strife,
Keep me, ye powers divine ; And pleas'd when ye demand my life,
May I that life resign.
Dear is my little native vale, ,
The ring-dove builds and warbles there; Close by my cot she tells her tale
To ev'ry passing villager.
In orange groves and myrtle bow'rs,
That breathe a gale of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours
With my loud lute's romantic sound;
The shepherd's horn at break of day,
The ballet danc'd in twilight glade;
Sung in the silent greenwood shade.
Ask me why I send you here,
Ask me why this flower doth show
these discover What doubts and fears are in a lover,
ON THE BATTLE OF SABLA.
[From the Arabic.]
[CARLYLE.] Sabla, thou saw'st th’exulting foe
In fancied triumphs crown'd; Thou heard'st their frantic females throw
These galling taunts around':