The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhed

That's French for "the ancient system," as in the ancient system of feudal privileges and the exercise of autocratic power over the peasants. The ancien regime never goes away, like vampires and dinosaur bones they are always hidden in the earth, exercising a mysterious influence. It is not paranoia to believe that the elites scheme against the common man. Inform yourself about their schemes here.

Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 2:15 am

[Epistle xix. -- From a girl on the stage to her friend, describing the good fortune of a young actress of their acquaintance.]

ESPISTLE XIX.
 
MERIT RESCUED FROM SHAME.

EUPHRONIUM TO THELXINOE.


SURE Fortune has smil'd on Melissa benign,
From the theatre freed, in abundance to shine:
While I, less in favour, am still doom'd to linger
My life on the stage, an unfortunate singer.
Melissa's beginning was poor past expression—  
For when she first studied her scenic profession,
Her mother and she in a pitiful cot
Were starving together, and scarce worth a groat;
But soon she eclips'd all the girls of her age,
And her musical talents engag'd the whole stage.
At first people sneer'd— to distinguish their taste;
But they soon turn'd to praise — and they envy'd at last.
Her charms, and her dress, and her musical skill
Soon gain'd her rich generous lovers at will.

She was splendidly kept -- but was highly afraid
Lest breeding should spoil so important a trade.
(And frequently breeding, to tell you the truth
Is the worst of destroyers to beauty and youth.)
Among the old gossips, she learn'd to divine
Whene'er she conceived, by infallible sign:
So when the case happened, she told her old dame:
And to me for advice, as more knowing, they came.
I gave my opinion, and added a drug,
Which demolish'd her fears, expeditious and snug.

But with Charicles when she commenc'd an affair,
Whose wealth was immense, as his beauty was rare.
She chang'd her request to the rulers above,
And with fervency pray'd for a pledge of their love.
The gods of Olympus consentingly smil'd:

[And Lucina's assistance, &c. -- Both Juno and Diana were worshipped under this name, as goddesses presiding over child-birth.]

And Lucina's assistance delivered the child—
A child with all kinds of perfection endued.
And the father himself in a miniature view'd.
The mother with rapture beheld the young boy,
The little Eutychides, offspring of joy.
For children the more they are beautiful, move
With greater incitement their parents to love.
While Charicles, blest in an infant so dear,
Determin'd the fame of its mother to clear:  

From her scenic employment he rescu'd the fair,
His hand, and his heart, and his riches to share:
And the lady forgot, while she gaz'd on her son,
Both the life she had led, and the risk she had run.
A visit I lately to Pythias paid,
(For she took a new name, when she left her old trade.)
She shew'd me her jewels, each ring, and each toy;
—And be sure I'd a sight of her sweet little boy:
His cheek I kiss'd sweetly -- but tenderly too;
For 'twas soft as the rose, it resembled in hue.—
The lady's so chang'd,— 'tis amazing to see't;
So modest her air, and her look so discreet:
Her hair braided neat, without art or design:
Her ornaments grave; neither flaunty nor fine.
When she walks, 'tis with caution and prudence they say,
And you'd think by her steps, she had ne'er gone astray.  
So one of these days, when the time you can spare,
I advise you, The'xinoe, visit the fair:
But be very exact not Melissa to name her,
'Twould look like an insult intended to shame her:
The word, when I saw her, was at my tongue's end,
But they gave me a jog, and the hint sav'd your friend.  
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 2:22 am

[Epistle XX. -- From a jailor, whose wife was seduced by a young man confined in his house for adultery.]

EPISTLE XX.

THE JAILOR TRICKED.  

PHYLACIDES TO PHRURION.


LATE an adult'rous youth I seiz'd;
And 'guard him closely' was the charge.
But with his age and figure pleas'd,
I kept him prisoner at large.

Unfetter'd thro' my house he stray'd:
Thought I, he may reform his life.—
He my compassion well repaid.
And — gratefully seduc'd my wife.

[Eurybates. -- A famous robber of Attica, who escaped once from prison by means of some brazen pens, by which he descended the walls.]

The thief, Eurybates, ne'er strain'd
His wit to so complete a job:
Who first his jailor's pity gain'd,
Then shew'd him how he us'd to rob.

The brazen pens they wrote withal
Sharper than needles did he grind:
Then stuck them in the prison wall,
And fled— but left their wives behind.

Soon as this villany was heard,
Which robb'd my bosom of its rest;
It first incredible appear'd.
And then became the public jest.

—The public jest — ah! that wounds deep--
That I — who live by bolts and chains,
In my own prison could not keep
The honour of my wife from stains.
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 2:33 am

[Epistle XXI. -- A whimsical account of a lover and his mistress, who admitted him to every favour but the last.]

EPISTLE XXI.

CRUEL COMPASSION.

ARISTOMENES TO MYRONIDES.


THE god of the love-darting bow,
Whose bliss is man's heart to destroy;
Oft contrives to embitter our woe
By a specious resemblance of joy.—

Long — long had Architeles sigh'd
The fair Telesippe to gain:
She coolly his passion denied,
Yet seem'd somewhat mov'd at his pain.

At length she consented to hear;
But 'twas done with a view to beguile:
For her terms were most harsh and severe,
And a frown was as good as her smile.

'You may freely,' says she, 'touch my breast,
'And kiss, while a kiss has its charms;
'And (provided I am not undrest)
'Encircle me round in your arms.

'In short, any favour you please,
'But expect not, nor think of the last:
'Lest enrag'd I revoke my decrees,
'And your sentence of exile be cast.' —

'Be it so,' cried the youth with delight,
'Thy pleasure, my fair one, is mine:
'Since I'm blest as a prince at your sight,
'Sure to touch thee, will make me divine.

'But why keep one favour alone,
'And grant such a number beside?' —
''Because the men value the boon
''But only so long as denied.

''They seek it with labour and pain;
"When gain'd, throw it quickly away;
"For youth is unsettled and vain,
''And its choice scarce persists for a day.

—Thus pines the poor victim away,
Forc'd to nibble and starve on a kiss.—
Serv'd worse than e'en eunuchs — for they
Can never feel torture like this.
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 3:14 am

[Epistle xxii. -- The address of a cunning maid-servant.]

EPISTLE XXII.

PRIDE DEJECTED.

LUCIAN TO ALCIPHRON.


LONG Glycera had lov'd, and still
Charisius loves; but brooking ill
Those supercilious airs of his,
(For Pride, you know, his foible is)
Determin'd, if she could, at once
Her hopeless passion to renounce.
A wish to love him, caus'd her hate:
Hatred too strong did love create.

However to Doris she applied,
Her maid, her oracle, her guide:
To her all circumstances stated;
And long together they debated:
At length their consultation done,
The confident went out alone.

She'd walk'd thro' half a street and better,
When at a turn Charisius met her:
Ask'd how she far'd, and how she sped.—
'So, so,' she cried, and shook her head.
'Is ought the matter?' said the youth;
'For God's sake, Doris, tell me truth.'
Forcing a tear from either eye,
The crafty jade thus answer'd sly:
'My mistress madly doats upon
'That dolt, that idiot, Polemon.
'What's worse, and you'll esteem it such,
'She hates your company as much.'—
'Is't true?' th' astonish'd lover cries.
'Alas! too true,' the maid replies:
'I'm sure she beats me black and blue,
'If once I dare but mention you.'—

'Twas now Charisius plainly prov'd
He lov'd her more than he was lov'd—
(For oft when men neglect the fair,
Whose favours they might freely share,
A rival cleverly thrown in,
Their assiduities may win)
His haughtiness was now no more—
He begg'd, protested, wept, and swore.—
(For beyond bounds is Pride dejected,
If once it find itself neglected)
'Wherein,' he cried, 'wherein have I
'Affronted her unknowingly?
'For never purposely, I swear.
'Offended I in ought the fair. --
'But I'll go deprecate her ire,
'In person my offence enquire.—
'Then let my charmer bring her action;
'I'll make her any satisfaction.  
'Tho' I have err'd, will no repentance
'Induce her to revoke my sentence?'

But Doris hesitated yet,
To make the triumph more complete.
'If on my knees I try to move her,'
Exclaim'd this miserable lover,
'Still must I meet a harsh denial?'—
'Far be't from me t' oppose the trial,'
Said Doris— 'go— intreat her pity;
'And still, perhaps, she may admit ye.'—

Charisius now with hope inspir'd,
(That beauteous youth, so long admir'd!)
A kind reception flew to meet,
And fell at his beloved's feet.
But Glycera in raptures gaz'd,
And from his knees the suppliant rais'd:
Then stily turn'd about to kiss
The hand which had been touch'd by his.

And soon was his forgiveness past,
For Love forbid her rage to last.
The crafty maid stood smiling by
The while, and archly wink'd her eye,
To shew, that she alone had wit
To make the haughty swain submit.
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 3:26 am

[Epistle xxiii. -- From a man unfortunate both in play and love.]

EPISTLE XXIII.

THE DOUBLE MISFORTUNE.

MONOCHORUS TO PHILOCUBUS.


HOW hard is my lot, and my fate how perverse!
Whom two dread misfortunes join forces to curse:
When one is sufficient to plague one's life through,—
'Tis the devil indeed to be saddled with two:
And that each is an evil, will scarce be denied,
Tho' which the severest, is hard to decide.
First, a profligate jilt throws my money away —
Then my happier rivals all beat me at play:
For as soon as the dice and the tables are set;
Love pops in my head — spoils each cast and each bett.

Thus all my antagonists win what they will,
--Tho' much my inferiors in practice and skill:
For disturb'd I forget how the chances have gone,
And place to their side what I've gain'd on my own.
Then leaving my play for my mistress, I meet
A rebuff more severe than my former defeat:
For my rivals outbid me, enrich'd at my cost,
And give, what the moment before I have lost.
Scorn'd and slighted am I, the while they are carest:
And I lend them the weapon to stab my own breast.—
Thus misfortunes, together when join'd, become worse,
And gain from each other additional force.
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 3:39 am

[Epistle xxiv. -- From a girl to her favoured lover, for whose sake she had dismissed her other admirers.]

EPISTLE XXIV.

CONSTANCY.

MUSARIUM TO HER DEAREST LYSIAS.


MY lovers, a detested set,
Last night at my apartments met.—
Long did they sit, and stare, while each
Seem'd to have lost the pow'rs of speech;
Expecting when his neighbour's jaws
Should open in the common cause.
At length the boldest of the gang
Arose, and made a fine harangue,
In which the wordy youth profest
Only t' advise me for the best:
But really meant (I guess'd his theme)
To rival you in my esteem.

'No girl,' said he, 'who treads the stage,
'Like you can all our hearts engage:
'And since your charms surpass them all,
'Why should your profits be so small?
'Whereas we gladly would supply you
'But are repuls'd and slighted by you,
'For Lysias; who, to say the truth,
'Is but a very aukward youth.
'Did he remarkably excel us,
'We had no reason to be jealous:
'And you might feasibly maintain
'That beauty pleas'd you more than gain.
'But now you've not a single plea
'For praising him to this degree. --
'And yet you still remain the same,
'And stun us with his odious name:
'So oft repeated, that we seem
'To hear it even when we dream.

'Can it be passion thus to doat?
'No — 't must some phrenzy sure denote.
'But all we now desire to hear is
'A faithful answer to our queries.
'Can Lysias only touch your breast?—
'Resolve you to dismiss the rest? --
'Speak but the word, — and we desist.—
'But let us know your mind at least.'

Thus the whole evening did they preach
In many a long and fruitless speech.
But 'twould require a day and more
To copy half their nonsense o'er—
Suffice it, all their idle chat
Went in at this ear, out at that.
This, and this only I replied,
' 'Tis Cupid that my choice did guide:
'He bade my heart its feelings own:
'For Lysias live — for him alone.'

'Who,' cried they, 'would that wretch admire,
'That antidote to all desire?
'What heart for such a clown can pine?'
'Mine,' answer'd I with rapture, 'mine.'—
Then rising, 'fare ye well,' I cried,
'But cease my lover to deride.
'Your proffer'd treasures I despise,
'In Lysias all my transport lies.'—

— Haste then, lov'd youth, O hither haste:
The precious moments do not waste:
O bring me but one tender kiss:
With int'rest I'll repay the bliss.
O! grant me, Venus, this request,
And send the idol of my breast. --
Come, Lysias, come: and soothe my pangs,
On thee my very being hangs.
E'en while I write time slips away:
Then why this torturing delay? --
Ne'er shall those brutes avail with me—
—They're satyrs, when compar'd with thee.
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 3:50 am

[Epistle XXV. -- From a girl, accusing her sister of seducing her lover's affections.]

EPISTLE XXV.

THE SISTERS.

PHILANIS TO PETALA.


AS yesterday I went to dine
With Pamphilus, a swain of mine:
I took my sister, little heeding
The net I for myself was spreading;
Tho' many circumstances led
To prove she'd mischief in her head.
For first her dress in ev'ry part
Was studied with the nicest art:
Deck'd out with necklaces and rings,
And twenty other foolish things:
And she had curl'd and bound her hair
With more than ordinary care:
And then to shew her youth the more—
A light, transparent robe she wore --
From head to heel she seem'd t' admire
In raptures all her fine attire:
And often turn'd aside to view
If others gaz'd with raptures too.——

At dinner, grown more bold and free,
She parted Pamphilus and me;
For veering round unheard, unseen,
She slily drew her chair between.
Then with alluring am'rous smiles,
And nods, and other wanton wiles,
The unsuspecting youth ensnar'd,
And rival'd me in his regard.—

Next she affectedly would sip
The liquor that had touch'd his lip.
He, whose whole thoughts to love incline,
And heated with th' enlivening wine,  
With interest repaid her glances,
And answer'd all her kind advances.

Thus sip they from the goblet's brink
Each other's kisses while they drink:
Which with the sparkling wine combin'd,
Quick passage to the heart did find.
Then Pamphilus an apple broke
And at her bosom aim'd the stroke;
While she the fragment kiss'd and press't,
And hid it wanton in her breast.

But I be sure was in amaze,
To see my sister's artful ways:
'These are returns,' I said, 'quite fit,
'To me who nurs'd you when a chit.
'For shame lay by this envious art;—
'Is this to act a sister's part?'

But vain were words, intreaties vain —
The crafty witch secur'd my swain.—
By heav'ns, my sister does me wrong--
But Oh! she shall not triumph long.
Well Venus knows I'm not in fault--
'Twas she who gave the first assault:
And since our peace her treach'ry broke,
Let me return her stroke for stroke.
She'll quickly feel, and to her cost,
Not all their fire my eyes have lost—
And soon with grief shall she resign
Six of her swains for one of mine.
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 4:05 am

[Epistle xxvi. -- A panegyrical Epistle to a pantomime actress ([x]) The celebrated Casaubon, who wrote some critiques upon this work, points out a peculiar elegance in this epistle; but it is to be feared much of it depended on the expressions of the original. -- However, it throws some light on the art of the ancient times.]

EPISTLE XXVI.

THE PANTOMIME ACTRESS.

SPEUSIPPUS TO PANARETE.


LONG had Fame thy praises sung,
Sweetest theme of ev'ry tongue:
Long mine ears those graces knew,
Which till now ne'er blest my view.
Now thy charms my bosom fire,
More and more I now admire;

Finding them so far excel
All that Fame had words to tell.
On thy gestures who could gaze,
Nor be lost in wild amaze?
Who unhurt, with bosom cold,
Could thy beauteous form behold?—
'Mong th' immortal race divine,
Venus and

[Polymnia particularly presided over Gesture.]

Polymnia shine.

They presided at thy birth,
And ordain'd, that thou on earth.
Like the expressive muse shouldst move,
And inspire, like Venus, love.

Art thou orator or painter:
Which allusion is the quainter?
Words thou canst with skill express:
Things in native colours dress:
While thy animated arm,
Limbs with elocution warm;
Motions just, and nicely true.
Are thy tongue and pencil too.
Thou, thus eloquently mute,
Canst each part, like Proteus, suit:
As the strains, or light or slow,
Bid successive passions flow.

Now with loud applauding hand
See the wrapt spectators stand:
Now you hear th' astonish'd throng
Joining in alternate song:

[Now they shake their robes, &c. -- This was a sign of the highest approbation among the Ancients.]

Now they shake their robes in praise:
Now in speechless wonder gaze:
While in whispers each explains
What thy mimic silence means:
And to shew his approbation
Labours at thy imitation.

Thou with gestures nice, exact,
Dost like Caramallus act:
Him thy all-expressive grace
Doth with true resemblance trace.
Pleas'd may e'en the wise, the old,
Thy dumb eloquence behold:
Such amusements to attend,
Gravity may well unbend.—
I, on public bus'ness bound,
Many cities have gone round:  
Either Rome I've travell'd through,
Both the ancient and the new;
Yet in neither did I see
Ought that might be match'd with thee—

Such thy charms, and such thy art;
Blest is he who wins thy heart!
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 4:20 am

[Epistle xxvii. -- From a lady, ridiculing the addresses of a self-sufficient lover.]

EPISTLE XXVII.

THE COXCOMB.

CLEARCHUS TO AMYNANDER.


As just beneath a lady's eye
A youth officiously pass'd by:
Another lady standing near,
Jogg'd her, and whisper'd in her ear,
'Yon swain, by Beauty's queen 'tis true,
'Walk'd by to be observ'd by you:
'And really, on examination,
'His figure merits observation.
'His dress is very neatly lac'd: —
'And fashion'd with a pretty taste.
'And then observe, his jetty hair
'Is buckled with the nicest care:
('For Cupid can transform, you know,
'The greatest sloven to a beau.')

[That man, &c. -- This is a very lively description of an intriguing coxcomb; and perhaps not inapplicable to some modern characters.]

'That man,' said t' other, 'I detest,
'However shap'd, however dress'd,
'Who flatters his own charms too much,
'And thinks we can't resist the touch.
'This made him chuse, and this alone,
'The name of Philo for his own:
'This gave the self-sufficient airs
'Which in his haughty brow he bears.
'I hate the lover who can dare
'To be a rival to the fair:
'Who, if she deign to bless his arms,
'Thinks he repays her charms for charms.

'The man who courts a lady so,
'Courts only that the world may know.
'But hear me vex my stately swain,
'It cannot fail to entertain.—
''A youth there is who frequent tries
"With love my bosom to surprise:
''In vain my court he daily haunts,
''In vain his idle ditties chaunts; --
''Yet fears not to repeat his song
''Both ev'ry day, and all day long:
''While I tormented hide my face,
''And blush myself for his disgrace."

Thus with insulting words the fair
Mock'd her desponding lover's care:
And then, to fasten his devotion,
Contriv'd, with easy, careless motion,
A leg of most enchanting shape
Should from beneath her robe escape.
 
The poor Adonis heard, and view'd
Just as the lady wish'd he shou'd:
And 'O! insulting maid,' he cried,
'Continue still my flame to chide:
'Not me thy bitter taunts approach,
'The god of Love alone they touch:
'Nor he, I trust, will bear them long,
'But chuse an arrow sure and strong:
'The shaft thy stubborn heart shall gore,
And thou in turn my love implore.'

'That dreadful lot far distant be,'
She cried affectedly, 'from me!
'Go on, vain youth, persist to please
'Your pride with such conceits as these:
'And wait till your superior beauty
'Compels my love-sick heart to fue t' ye:
'And till avenging Cupid draws
'His bow, to vanquish in your cause.

'Meantime, still haunt my court in vain,
'And chaunt, and watch, and chaunt again:
'On Love's tempestuous billows tost,
'Too weak to keep or quit your post:
'Forbidden ought to touch that's mine,
'And left with hopeless cares to pine,
'And not a kiss your toils repay—
'Yet have not strength to get away.'
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Re: The Love Epistles of Aristaenetus, by Nathaniel B. Halhe

Postby admin » Sat Mar 13, 2021 4:45 am

[Epistle xxviii. -- From a lover, resigning his mistress to his friend.]

EPISTLE XXVIII.

THE RIVAL FRIENDS.

NICOSTRATUS TO TIMOCRATES.


TYRANT o' the heart! inconstant, faithless boy!
Source of these tears— as once dear source of joy!—
Inhuman trifler! whose delusive smile
Charms to ensnare, and soothes but to beguile--
Hence! tyrant, I renounce thy sway.— And thou,
False goddess, who prepar'st the stripllng's bow,
Whose skill marks out the soft, the yielding heart,
Guides the boy's arm, and barbs the madning dart,—
Thou shalt no more my midnight vows receive,
To thee no more the votive fruits I'll give,
No more for thee the festive altar raise,
Nor ever tune another note of praise.

This I have done.— Witness, each sacred grove!
Where wandering lovers sing the maid they love;
Ye awful fanes! to this false goddess rais'd,
Fanes that have oft with my free incense blaz'd;
And chiefly thou, sweet solitary bird
Bear witness to my vows,— for thou hast heard;
And many a night hast braved the dewy wind
To soothe, with thy soft notes, my pensive mind:
But when the churlish blast has husht thy lays,
Have I not fill'd the interval with praise—
With praise still varied to the Cyprian queen,
And sighs, the heart's best tribute, breathed between;
Till slumb'ring Echo started from her cave,
Admiring at the late response she gave; 
And thou, best warbler of the feather'd throng,
With double sweetness did'st renew thy song.
—Nor were ye slow, ye gentle gales of night,
To catch such notes, and stop your silent flight,
'Till on your dewy wings, with morrow's rays,
To Cypria's queen ye waft the song of praise.
— In vain! officious gales; — she heeds you not;
My vows are scorn'd, and all my gifts forgot;
A happier rival must her power defend;—
And in that rival, I have lost a friend!

Thee then, my friend — if yet a wretch may claim
A last attention by that once dear name —
Thee I address: — The cause you must approve;—
I yield you — what I cannot cease to love.
Be thine the blissful lot, the nymph be thine: —
I yield my love — sure friendship may be mine.
Yet must no thought of me torment thy breast;—
Forget me, if my griefs disturb thy rest,
 
Whilst still I'll pray that thou may'st never know
The pangs of baffled Love, or feel my woe.
But sure to thee, dear charming!— fatal maid!
(For me thou'st charm'd, and me thou hast betray'd)
This last request I need not recommend—
Forget the lover thou, as he the friend.
Bootless such charge! for ne'er did pity move
A heart that mock'd the suit of humble Love.—

Yet in some thoughtful hour, if such can be,
Where Love, Timocrates, is join'd with thee,
In some lone pause of joy, when pleasures pall,
And fancy broods o'er joys it can't recal,
Haply a thought of me (for thou, my friend,
May'st then have taught that stubborn heart to bend)
A thought of him, whose passion was not weak,
May dash one transient blush upon her cheek;
Haply a tear — (for I shall surely then
Be past all power to raise her scorn again)
Haply, I say, one self-dried tear may fall:—
One tear she'll give,— for whom I yielded all!
Then wanton on thy neck for comfort hang,
And soon forget the momentary pang;
Whilst thy fond arms— Oh down my jealous soul!
What racking thoughts within my bosom roll!
How busy Fancy kindles ev'ry vein,
Tears my burst heart, and fires my madning brain.—
Hush'd be the ill-tim'd storm— for what hast thou,
Poor outcast wretch, to do with passion now?
I will be calm;— 'tis Reason's voice commands,
And injured Friendship shakes her recent bands.
I will be calm;— but thou, sweet Peace of Mind,
That rock'd my pillow to the whistling wind;
Thou flatt'rer, Hope! thyself a cure for sorrow,
Who never shew'd the wretch a sad to-morrow,
Thou coz'ner, ever whisp'ring at my ear
What vanity was ever pleas'd to hear—

Whither, ye faithless phantoms, whither flown!
— Alas! these tears bears witness ye are gone.
Return! — in vain the call! ye cannot find
One blissful feat within this sullen mind;
Ye cannot mix with Pride, and surly Care,
Ye cannot brood with Envy and Despair.

My life has lost its aim! that fatal fair
Was all its object, all its hope or care;
She was the goal to which my course was bent,
Where ev'ry wish, where ev'ry thought was sent;
A secret influence darted from her eyes,—
Each look, attraction! and herself the prize,
Concenter'd there, I liv'd for her alone, —
To make her glad, and to be blest, was one.

—Her I have lost! — and can I blame this poor
Forsaken heart— sad heart that joys no more!  
That faintly beats against my aching breast,
Conscious it wants the animating guest:
Then senseless droops, nor yields a sign of pain,
Save the sad sigh it breathes, to search in vain.

Adieu, my friend, -- nor blame this sad adieu,
Tho' sorrow guides my pen, it blames not you.
Forget me -- 'tis my pray'r; nor seek to know
The fate of him whose portion must be woe,
Till the cold earth outstretch her friendly arms,
And Death convince me that he can have charms.

E'en where I write, with desert views around,
An emblem of my state has sorrow found:
I saw a little stream full briskly glide,
Whilst some near spring renewed its infant tide;
But when a churlish hand disturb'd its source,
How soon the panting rivulet flagged its course!  
A while it skulk'd sad murm'ring thro' the grass,
Whilst whisp'ring rushes mock'd its lazy pace,
Then sunk its head, by the first hillock's side,
And fought the covert earth, it once supplied.

FINIS.  
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