Page:The Poetical Works of Elijah Fenton (1779).djvu/155

Benumb'd in death the cold physician lies,
While for his help the fev'rish patient cries. 20
Call me not cruel, but reproach my fate,
And, list'ning while my woes I here relate,
Let your soft bosom heave with tender sighs,
Let melting sorrow languish in your eyes;
Piteous deplore a wretch constrain'd to rove, 25
Whose crime and punishment is slighted love;
Fix'd for his guilt, to ev'ry coming age,
A monument of Cytherea's rage.
At Malea born, my race unknown to fame,
With oars I ply'd; Colymbus was my name; 30
A name that from the diving birds I bore
Which seek their fishy food along the shore.
One summer-eve in port I left my sail,
And with my partners sought a neighb'ring vale,
What time the rural nymphs repair'd to pay 35
Their floral honours to the queen of May.
At first their various charms my choice confuse;
For what is choice where each is fit to chuse?
But Love or Fate at length my bosom fir'd
With a bright maid in myrtle-green attir'd; 40
A shepherdess she was, and on the lawn
Sat to the setting sun from dewy dawn;
Yet fairer than the nymphs who guard the streams
In pearly caves, and shun the burning beams.
I whisper love; she flies; I still pursue, 45
To press her to the joy she never knew;