Part 470 (1/2)
Beauteous princess, ah! with fear Quakes before thy splendor, love, Seeking, as he ventures near, With his power thy breast to move!
Soon from her immortal throne Heaven's great queen must fain descend, And in prayer for beauty's zone, To the heart-enchainer bend!
By love are blest the G.o.ds on high, Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given; 'Tis love that makes the heavens s.h.i.+ne With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven!
'Tis love illumes the realms of night, For Orcus dark obeys his might, And bows before his magic spell All-kindly looks the king of h.e.l.l At Ceres' daughter's smile so bright,-- Yes--love illumes the realms of night!
In h.e.l.l were heard, with heavenly sound, Holding in chains its warder bound, Thy lays, O Thracian one!
A gentler doom dread Minos pa.s.sed, While down his cheeks the tears coursed fast And e'en around Megaera's face The serpents twined in fond embrace, The lashes' work seemed done.
Driven by Orpheus' lyre away, The vulture left his giant-prey [8]; With gentler motion rolled along Dark Lethe and Cocytus' river, Enraptured Thracian, by thy song,-- And love its burden was forever!
By love are blest the G.o.ds on high, Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given; 'Tis love that makes the heavens s.h.i.+ne With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven!
Wherever Nature's sway extends, The fragrant balm of love descends, His golden pinions quiver; If 'twere not Venus' eye that gleams Upon me in the moon's soft beams, In sunlit hill or river,-- If 'twere not Venus smiles on me From yonder bright and starry sea,
Not stars, not sun, not moonbeams sweet, Could make my heart with rapture beat.
'Tis love alone that smilingly Peers forth from Nature's blissful eye, As from a mirror ever!
Love bids the silvery streamlet roll More gently as it sighs along, And breathes a living, feeling soul In Philomel's sweet plaintive song; 'Tis love alone that fills the air With streams from Nature's lute so fair.
Thou wisdom with the glance of fire, Thou mighty G.o.ddess, now retire, Love's power thou now must feel!
To victor proud, to monarch high, Thou ne'er hast knelt in slavery,-- To love thou now must kneel!
Who taught thee boldly how to climb The steep, but starry path sublime, And reach the seats immortal?
Who rent the mystic veil in twain, And showed thee the Elysian plain Beyond death's gloomy portal?
If love had beckoned not from high, Had we gained immortality?
If love had not inflamed each thought, Had we the master spirit sought?
'Tis love that guides the soul along To Nature's Father's heavenly throne
By love are blest the G.o.ds on high, Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given; 'Tis love that makes the heavens s.h.i.+ne With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven!
TO A MORALIST.
Are the sports of our youth so displeasing?
Is love but the folly you say?
Benumbed with the winter, and freezing, You scold at the revels of May.
For you once a nymph had her charms, And Oh! when the waltz you were wreathing, All Olympus embraced in your arms-- All its nectar in Julia's breathing.
If Jove at that moment had hurled The earth in some other rotation, Along with your Julia whirled, You had felt not the shock of creation.