40
The Complaint.
Night 3.
Regret beheld her drooping, than the Bells
Of Lilies; Fairest Lilies not so fair.
Queen Lilies! and ye painted Populace!
Who dwell in Fields, and lead ambrosial Lives;
In Morn and Ev'ning Dew, your Beauties bathe,
And drink the Sun; which gives your Cheeks to glow,
And out-blush (mine excepted) ev'ry Fair;
You gladlier grew, ambitious of her Hand,
Which often cropt your Odours, Incense meet
To Thought so pure; her flow'ry State of Mind
In Joy unfal'n. Ye lovely Fugitives!
Coæval Race with Man! for Man you smile;
Why not smile at him too! You share indeed
His sudden Pass; but not his constant Pain.
So Man is made, nought ministers Delight,
But what his glowing Passions can engage;
And glowing Passions, bent on aught Below,
Must, soon or late, with Anguish turn the Scale;
And Anguish, after Rapture, how severe!
Rapture? Bold Man! who tempts the Wrath divine,
By plucking Fruit deny'd to mortal Taste,
While Here, presuming on the Rights of Heav'n.
For Transport dost Thou call on ev'ry Hour,
Lorenzo? At thy Friend's Expence be wise;
Lean not on Earth; 'twill pierce thee to the Heart;
A broken Reed, at best; but, oft, a Spear;
On its sharp Point Peace bleeds, and Hope expires.
Turn, hopeless Thought! turn from Her:—Thought repell'd,
Resenting rallies, and wakes ev'ry Woe.
Snatch'd ere thy Prime! and in thy bridal Hour!
And when kind Fortune, with thy Lover, smil'd!
And when high-flavour'd thy fresh-op'ning Joys!
And when blind Man pronounc'd thy Bliss complete!
And on a Foreign Shore; where Strangers wept!
Strangers to Thee; and, more surprising still,
Of Lilies; Fairest Lilies not so fair.
Queen Lilies! and ye painted Populace!
Who dwell in Fields, and lead ambrosial Lives;
In Morn and Ev'ning Dew, your Beauties bathe,
And drink the Sun; which gives your Cheeks to glow,
And out-blush (mine excepted) ev'ry Fair;
You gladlier grew, ambitious of her Hand,
Which often cropt your Odours, Incense meet
To Thought so pure; her flow'ry State of Mind
In Joy unfal'n. Ye lovely Fugitives!
Coæval Race with Man! for Man you smile;
Why not smile at him too! You share indeed
His sudden Pass; but not his constant Pain.
So Man is made, nought ministers Delight,
But what his glowing Passions can engage;
And glowing Passions, bent on aught Below,
Must, soon or late, with Anguish turn the Scale;
And Anguish, after Rapture, how severe!
Rapture? Bold Man! who tempts the Wrath divine,
By plucking Fruit deny'd to mortal Taste,
While Here, presuming on the Rights of Heav'n.
For Transport dost Thou call on ev'ry Hour,
Lorenzo? At thy Friend's Expence be wise;
Lean not on Earth; 'twill pierce thee to the Heart;
A broken Reed, at best; but, oft, a Spear;
On its sharp Point Peace bleeds, and Hope expires.
Turn, hopeless Thought! turn from Her:—Thought repell'd,
Resenting rallies, and wakes ev'ry Woe.
Snatch'd ere thy Prime! and in thy bridal Hour!
And when kind Fortune, with thy Lover, smil'd!
And when high-flavour'd thy fresh-op'ning Joys!
And when blind Man pronounc'd thy Bliss complete!
And on a Foreign Shore; where Strangers wept!
Strangers to Thee; and, more surprising still,
Strangers
