The Poetical Works of the Right Hon. George Granville, Lord Lansdowne/102
IMITATIONS, &c.
THE ENCHANTMENT.
In imitation of the Pharmaceutria of Theocritus.
Mix, mix the philtres—Quick—ſhe flies, ſhe flies,
Deaf to my call, regardleſs of my cries.
Are vows ſo vain? could oaths ſo feeble prove?
Ah! with what eaſe ſhe breaks thoſe chains of love!
Whom Love with all his force had bound in vain,5
Let charms compel, and magic rites regain.
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
Queen of the Night, bright empreſs of the ſtars,
The friend of Love! aſſiſt a lover’s cares:10
And thou, infernal Hecate! be nigh,
At whoſe approach fierce wolves affrighted fly,
Dark tombs diſcloſe their dead, and hollow cries
Echo from under ground, Ariſe, ariſe.
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;15
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
As crackling in the fire this laurel lies,
So ſtruggling in love’s flame her lover dies:
It burſts, and in a blaze of light expires;
So may ſhe burn, but with more laſting fires.20
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
As the wax melts which to the flame I hold,
So may ſhe melt, and never more grow cold.
Tough iron will yield, and ſtubborn marble run,25
And hardeſt hearts by love are melted down.
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
As with impetuous motion whirling round
This magic wheel ſtill moves, yet keeps its ground,30
Ever returning; ſo may ſhe come back,
And never more th’ appointed round forſake.
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
Diana! hail; all hail; moſt welcome thou,35
To whom th’ infernal king and judges bow:
O thou! whoſe art the pow’r of hell diſarms,
Upon a faithleſs woman try thy charms.
Hark! the dogs howl. She comes, the goddeſs comes:
Sound the loud trump, and beat our brazen drums.40
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
How calm ’s the ſky! how undiſturb’d the deep!
Nature is huſh’d, the very tempeſts ſteep;
The drowſy winds breathe gently thro’ the trees,45
And ſilent on the beach repoſe the ſeas:
Love only wakes: the ſtorm that tears my breaſt
For ever rages, and diſtracts my reſt.
O Love! relentleſs Love! tyrant accurs’d!
In deſerts bred, by Cruel tigers nurs’d.50
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
This riband that once bound her lovely waiſt,
O that my arms might gird her there as faſt!
Smiling ſhe gave it, and I priz’d it more55
Than the rich zone th’ Idalian goddeſs wore:
This riband, this lov’d relic of the fair,
So kiſs’d, and ſo preſerv’d—thus—thus I tear.
O Love! why doſt thou thus delight to rend
My ſoul with pain? ah! why torment thy friend?60
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
Thrice have I ſacrific’d, and, proſtrate, thrice
Ador’d: aſſiſt, ye Pow’rs! the ſacrifice.
Whoe’er he is whom now the fair beguiles65
With guilty glances and with perjur’d ſmiles,
Malignant vapours blaſt his impious head,
Ye lightnings ſcorch him, thunder ſtrike him dead,
Horror of conſcience all his ſlumbers break,
Diſtract his reſt, as love keeps me awake;70
If marry’d, may his wife a Helen be,
And curs’d and ſcorn’d like Menelaus he!
Begin, begin, the myſtic ſpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
Theſe pow’rful drops thrice on the threſhold pour,75
And bathe with this enchanted juice her door;
That door where no admittance now is found,
But where my ſoul is ever hov’ring round.
Haſte and obey; and binding be the ſpell.
Here ends my charm; O Love! ſucceed it well:80
By force of magic ſtop the flying fair,
Bring Mira back, my perjur’d wanderer.
Thou ’rt now alone, and painful is reſtraint;
Eaſe thy preſs’d heart, and give thy ſorrows vent;
Whence ſprang, and how began, theſe griefs declare,85
How much thy love, how cruel thy deſpair.
Ye Moon and Stars! by whoſe auſpicious light
I haunt theſe groves, and waſte the tedious night,
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.90
Too late for hope, for my repoſe too ſoon,
I ſaw, and lov’d; her heart, engag’d, was gone;
A happier man poſſeſs’d whom I adore:
O! I ſhould ne’er have ſeen, or ſeen before.
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,95
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.
What ſhall I do? ſhall I in ſilence bear?
Deſtroy myſelf, or kill the raviſher?
Die, wretched lover! die: but, O! beware,
Hurt not the man who is belov’d by her:100
Wait for a better hour, and truſt thy fate:
Thou ſeek’ſt her love, beget not then her hate.
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.
My life conſuming with eternal grief,105
From herbs and ſpells I seek a vain relief;
To ev’ry wiſe magician I repair,
In vain; for ſtill I love, and I deſpair.
Circe, Medea, and the Sibyls’ books,
Contain not half th’ enchantment of her looks.110
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.
As melted gold preſerves its weight the ſame,
So burnt my love, nor waſted in the flame.
And now, unable to ſupport the ſtrife,115
A glimm’ring hope recalls departing life;
My rival dying, I no longer grieve,
Since I may aſk, and ſhe with honour give.
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.120
Witneſs, ye Hours! with what unweary’d care
From place to place I ſtill purſu’d the fair;
Nor was Occaſion to reveal my flame
Slow to my ſuccour, for it kindly came:
It came, it came, that moment of delight!125
O gods! and how I trembled at the ſight!
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.
Diſmay’d and motionleſs, confus’d, amaz’d,
Trembling I ſtood, and terrify’d I gaz’d;130
My falt’ring tongue in vain for utt’rance try’d,
Faint was my voice, my thoughts abortive dy’d,
Or in weak ſounds and broken accents came
Imperfect, as diſcourſes in a dream.
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,135
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.
Soon ſhe divin’d what this confuſion meant,
And gueſs’d with eaſe the cauſe of my complaint:
My tongue embold’ning as her looks were mild,
At length I told my griefs—and ſtill ſhe ſmil’d.140
O Syren, Syren! fair Deluder! ſay,
Why would you tempt to truſt, and then betray?
So faithleſs now, why gave you hopes before?
Alas! you ſhould have been leſs kind, or more.
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,145
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.
Secure of innocence, I ſeek to know
From whence this change and my misfortunes grow;
Rumour is loud, and ev’ry voice proclaims
Her violated faith and conſcious flames.150
Can this be true? ah! flatt’ring Miſchief! ſpeak;
Could you make vows, and in a moment break?
And can the ſpace ſo very narrow be
Betwixt a woman’s oath and perjury?
O Jealouſy! all other ills at firſt155
My love eſſay’d, but thou art ſure the worſt.
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,
Its killing anguiſh, and its ſecret ſmart.
Ungrateful Mira! urge me thus no more,
Nor think me tame, that once ſo long I bore:160
If paſſion, dire revenge, or black deſpair,
Should once prevail beyond what man can bear,
Who knows what I? Ah! feeble rage, and vain;
With how ſecure a brow ſhe mocks my pain!
Thy heart, fond lover! does thy threats belie;165
Canſt thou hurt her for whom thou yet wouldſt die!
Nor durſt ſhe thus thy juſt reſentment brave,
But that ſhe knows how much thy ſoul ’s her ſlave.
But, ſee! Aurora riſing with the ſun
Diſſolves my charm, and frees th’ enchanted moon;170
My ſpells no longer bind at ſight of day,
And young Endymion calls his love away.
Love ’s the reward of all on earth, in heav’n,
And for a plague to me alone was given.
But ills not to be ſhunn’d we muſt endure;175
Death and a broken heart ’s a ready cure.
Cynthia! farewell; go reſt thy weary’d light;
I muſt for ever wake—We ’ll meet again at night.178