154
Translations, &c.
That hated word new-stabs my rankling wound;
Like a struck deer I startle at the sound; 216
Thence to the woods with furious speed repair,
And leave them all abandon'd to despair.
So, frighted by the swains, to reach the brake
Glides from a sunny bank the glitt'ring snake, 220
And whilst, reviv'd in youth, his wavy train
Floats in large spires, and burns along the plain,
He darts malignance from his scornful eye,
And the young flow'rs with livid hisses die.
Let my sad fate your soft compassion move, 225
Convinc'd that Phaon would but cannot love:
To torture and distract my soul are join'd
Unfading youth and impotence of mind.
The white and red that flatter on my skin
Hide hell; the grinning Furies howl within; 230
Pride, Envy, Rage, and Hate, inhabit there,
And the black child of Guilt, extreme Despair:
Nor of less terror to the perjur'd prove
The frowns of Venus than the bolts of Jove.
When Orpheus in the woods began to play, 235
Sooth'd with his airs the leopards round him lay;
Their glaring eyes with lessen'd fury burn'd,
But when the lyre was mute their rage return'd:
So would thy Muse and lute a while control
My woes, and tune the discord of my soul, 240
In sweet suspense each savage thought restrain'd,
And then the love I never felt I feign'd.
Like a struck deer I startle at the sound; 216
Thence to the woods with furious speed repair,
And leave them all abandon'd to despair.
So, frighted by the swains, to reach the brake
Glides from a sunny bank the glitt'ring snake, 220
And whilst, reviv'd in youth, his wavy train
Floats in large spires, and burns along the plain,
He darts malignance from his scornful eye,
And the young flow'rs with livid hisses die.
Let my sad fate your soft compassion move, 225
Convinc'd that Phaon would but cannot love:
To torture and distract my soul are join'd
Unfading youth and impotence of mind.
The white and red that flatter on my skin
Hide hell; the grinning Furies howl within; 230
Pride, Envy, Rage, and Hate, inhabit there,
And the black child of Guilt, extreme Despair:
Nor of less terror to the perjur'd prove
The frowns of Venus than the bolts of Jove.
When Orpheus in the woods began to play, 235
Sooth'd with his airs the leopards round him lay;
Their glaring eyes with lessen'd fury burn'd,
But when the lyre was mute their rage return'd:
So would thy Muse and lute a while control
My woes, and tune the discord of my soul, 240
In sweet suspense each savage thought restrain'd,
And then the love I never felt I feign'd.
