Part 23 (2/2)

To some in smiles, and store of light she broke, To me in sad eclipses still she spoke.

She bent me with the motion of her sphere, And made me feel what first I did but fear.

But when I came to age, and had o'ergrown Her rules, and saw my freedom was my own, I did reply unto the laws of Fate, And made my reason my great advocate: I labour'd to inherit my just right; But then--O, hear Etesia!--lest I might Redeem myself, my unkind starry mother Took my poor heart, and gave it to another.

FOOTNOTES:

[64] The original has _concerned in_.

TO ETESIA PARTED FROM HIM, AND LOOKING BACK.

O, subtle Love! thy peace is war, It wounds and kills without a scar, It works unknown to any sense, Like the decrees of Providence, And with strange silence shoots me through, The fire of Love doth fell like snow.

Hath she no quiver, but my heart?

Must all her arrows. .h.i.t that part?

Beauties like heav'n their gifts should deal Not to destroy us, but to heal.

Strange art of Love! that can make sound, And yet exasperates the wound: That look she lent to ease my heart, Hath pierc'd it, and improv'd the smart.

IN ETESIAM LACHRYMANTEM.

O Dulcis Iuctus, risuque potentior omni!

Quem decorant lachrimis sidera tanta suis.

Quam tacitae spirant aurae! vultusque nitentes Contristant veneres, collachrimantque suae!

Ornat gutta genas, oculisque simillima gemma: Et tepido vivas irrigat imbre rosas.

Dicite Chaldaei! quae me fortuna fatigat, [C?D?]um formosa dies et sine nube perit[65]?

FOOTNOTES:

[65] The original has _peruit_.

TO ETESIA GOING BEYOND SEA.

Go, if you must! but stay--and know And mind before you go, my vow.

To ev'ry thing, but heav'n and you, With all my heart I bid adieu!

Now to those happy shades I'll go Where first I saw my beauteous foe!

I'll seek each silent path where we Did walk; and where you sat with me I'll sit again, and never rest Till I can find some flow'r you press'd.

That near my dying heart I'll keep, And when it wants dew I will weep: Sadly I will repeat past joys And words, which you did sometimes voice I'll listen to the woods, and hear The echo answer for you there.

But famish'd with long absence I, Like infants left, at last shall cry, And tears--as they do milk--will sup Until you come, and take me up.

ETESIA ABSENT.

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