TRANSLATIONS, &c.
139
Some winning grace in ev'ry act you found,
But in full tides of ecstasy were drown'd 50
When, murmuring in the melting joys of love,
Round your's my carling limbs began to move;
But now the bright Sicilian maids adore
The youth who seem'd so fond of me before.
Send back, send back my fugitive! for he 55
Will vow to you the vows he made to me:
That smooth deceiving tongue of his can charm
The coyest ear, the roughest pride disarm.
Oh! aid thy poetess, great queen of Love!
Auspicious to my growing passion prove! 60
Fortune was cruel to my tender age,
And still pursues with unrelenting rage.
Of parents whilst a child I was bereft,
To the wide world an helpless orphan left:
My brother in a strumpet's vile embrace 65
Lavish'd a large estate to buy disgrace,
And doom'd to traffic on the main is tost,
Winning with danger what with shame he lost;
And vows revenge on me, who dar'd to blame
His conduct, and was careful of his fame: 70
And then (as if the woes I bore beside
Were yet too light) my little daughter dy'd:
But after all these pangs of sorrow past
A worse came on, for Phaon came at last!
No gems nor rich embroider'd silks I wear; 75
No more in artful curls I comb my hair;
But in full tides of ecstasy were drown'd 50
When, murmuring in the melting joys of love,
Round your's my carling limbs began to move;
But now the bright Sicilian maids adore
The youth who seem'd so fond of me before.
Send back, send back my fugitive! for he 55
Will vow to you the vows he made to me:
That smooth deceiving tongue of his can charm
The coyest ear, the roughest pride disarm.
Oh! aid thy poetess, great queen of Love!
Auspicious to my growing passion prove! 60
Fortune was cruel to my tender age,
And still pursues with unrelenting rage.
Of parents whilst a child I was bereft,
To the wide world an helpless orphan left:
My brother in a strumpet's vile embrace 65
Lavish'd a large estate to buy disgrace,
And doom'd to traffic on the main is tost,
Winning with danger what with shame he lost;
And vows revenge on me, who dar'd to blame
His conduct, and was careful of his fame: 70
And then (as if the woes I bore beside
Were yet too light) my little daughter dy'd:
But after all these pangs of sorrow past
A worse came on, for Phaon came at last!
No gems nor rich embroider'd silks I wear; 75
No more in artful curls I comb my hair;
