42
'Revenge! Revenge!' the angry Lover cried,
Then sought the Nymph, and 'Be thou now my Bride.'
Bride had she been, but they no Priest could move
To bind in Law, the Couple bound by Love.
What then was left, these Lovers to requite?
But stolen moments of disturb'd delight;
Soft trembling tumults, terrors dearly priz'd,
Transports that pain'd, and joys that agoniz'd:
Till, the fond Damsel, pleas'd with Lad so trim,
Aw'd by her Parent and intic'd by him;
Her lovely form from savage power to save,
Gave—not her hand—but all she could, she gave.
Then came the days of shame, the grievous night,
The varying look, the wandering appetite;
The joy assum'd, while sorrow dimm'd the eyes,
The forc'd sad smiles that follow'd sudden sighs,
And every art, long us'd, but us'd in vain,
To hide thy progress, Nature, and thy pain.
Too eager caution shews some danger's near,
The bully's bluster proves the coward's fear;
His sober step, the drunkard vainly tries,
And nymphs expose the failings they disguise.
First, whispering gossips were in parties seen;
Then louder Scandal walk'd the Village-green;
Next babbling Folly told the growing ill,
And busy Malice dropt it at the Mill.
"Go! to thy curse and mine," the Father said,
"Strife and confusion stalk around thy bed;
Want and a wailing Brat, thy portion be,
Plague to thy fondness as thy fault to me,
Where skulks the villain?".———
Then sought the Nymph, and 'Be thou now my Bride.'
Bride had she been, but they no Priest could move
To bind in Law, the Couple bound by Love.
What then was left, these Lovers to requite?
But stolen moments of disturb'd delight;
Soft trembling tumults, terrors dearly priz'd,
Transports that pain'd, and joys that agoniz'd:
Till, the fond Damsel, pleas'd with Lad so trim,
Aw'd by her Parent and intic'd by him;
Her lovely form from savage power to save,
Gave—not her hand—but all she could, she gave.
Then came the days of shame, the grievous night,
The varying look, the wandering appetite;
The joy assum'd, while sorrow dimm'd the eyes,
The forc'd sad smiles that follow'd sudden sighs,
And every art, long us'd, but us'd in vain,
To hide thy progress, Nature, and thy pain.
Too eager caution shews some danger's near,
The bully's bluster proves the coward's fear;
His sober step, the drunkard vainly tries,
And nymphs expose the failings they disguise.
First, whispering gossips were in parties seen;
Then louder Scandal walk'd the Village-green;
Next babbling Folly told the growing ill,
And busy Malice dropt it at the Mill.
"Go! to thy curse and mine," the Father said,
"Strife and confusion stalk around thy bed;
Want and a wailing Brat, thy portion be,
Plague to thy fondness as thy fault to me,
Where skulks the villain?".———
