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The Raven.
“Of darkness and dismay—a living horror
“Be thou to youths and maidens—and when fires
“From the fierce dog-star’s eyes with fever’s heat
“Shall scorch each burning breast, let all things drink
“And bless the cooling beverage, save thou!
“Thou, only thou, shalt agonize with thirst,
“And yet forbear to drink, until thy tongue
“Shall stiffen with thy torture!”
“Be thou to youths and maidens—and when fires
“From the fierce dog-star’s eyes with fever’s heat
“Shall scorch each burning breast, let all things drink
“And bless the cooling beverage, save thou!
“Thou, only thou, shalt agonize with thirst,
“And yet forbear to drink, until thy tongue
“Shall stiffen with thy torture!”
Maiden, thus
Apollo wrong’d chastis’d his favourite bird.
Is Cytherea less severe, or just?
Bethink thee, maiden, will she not make pale
The glowing cheek, and close the ear and heart
To love’s sweet sounds, of her who dares betray
Falsehood to her soft worship?—Sweet, my kiss;
And after, tell me why to-day, alone,
I wander’d through the beech grove? nay, declare,
For I can bear to hear it, who was he
Who fondly flutter’d round thee, robbing me
Of thee, and that lov’d hour?
Apollo wrong’d chastis’d his favourite bird.
Is Cytherea less severe, or just?
Bethink thee, maiden, will she not make pale
The glowing cheek, and close the ear and heart
To love’s sweet sounds, of her who dares betray
Falsehood to her soft worship?—Sweet, my kiss;
And after, tell me why to-day, alone,
I wander’d through the beech grove? nay, declare,
For I can bear to hear it, who was he
Who fondly flutter’d round thee, robbing me
Of thee, and that lov’d hour?
PEROE.
First, I’ll confess,
And then bestow the kiss I promis’d thee.
True is thy thought, a lover hover’d round me.
Oh, far more beautiful than thee, Learchus!
And still more gentle, and more flattering—
That flattery, ah, how could I resist!
And the soft air was so delicious so
O’erpowering with its odour—that, at length,
Faint with the fragrance, and the sultry heat,
Lost in th’ intoxicating dream—alas!
Frown not so sternly, dear Learchus, but
I yielded to his flatteries and his prayers,
And sunk into his arms—nay, start not—hear,
They were the arms of poppy-crowned sleep.
A. F.
First, I’ll confess,
And then bestow the kiss I promis’d thee.
True is thy thought, a lover hover’d round me.
Oh, far more beautiful than thee, Learchus!
And still more gentle, and more flattering—
That flattery, ah, how could I resist!
And the soft air was so delicious so
O’erpowering with its odour—that, at length,
Faint with the fragrance, and the sultry heat,
Lost in th’ intoxicating dream—alas!
Frown not so sternly, dear Learchus, but
I yielded to his flatteries and his prayers,
And sunk into his arms—nay, start not—hear,
They were the arms of poppy-crowned sleep.
A. F.
