The Hopeless Lover

'Twas now the Time when all remains of day
By the thick shades of night were chas'd away;
Silence and gentle sleep fill'd every Breast,
And Natures self seem'd to retire to rest:
Nothing but Fancy (for she ever wakes,
And, unconfin'd, her roving Journey takes
O'er Hills, o'er Dales, o'er flowy Meads and Lakes;
And sometimes mounts aloft where Angels dwell,
And in a trice shoots down from thence to Hell,
There all the tortures of the damn'd does view,
And almost makes us think we feel 'em too.)
Nothing beside was free; and 'twas her will
To shew the Pastimes of her antick skill:
Wrapt deep in sleep I lay, the Scene was drew,
And this was that presented to my view.

I lookt, and lo! I saw a Nymph, as fair
As Guardian Angels in Idea are;
So soft her Carriage, and her Eyes so bright,
Their Lustre did supply the absent light.
Charm'd with the dazling object, and amaz'd,
I eagerly on the sweet Vision gaz'd:
But witness for me Heav'n, for you know best
What Admiration seiz'd my trembling Breast,
When drawing nigh to take a stricter view,
(Not thinking that the Beauteous form I knew)
I found 'twas Caelia, causer of my smart,
Caelia, the cruel Empress of my heart;
Whose Eyes, methought, at my approach shot flame,
Arm'd with that fatal Weapon, sharp disdain;
Backward I started, Horror seiz'd my heart,
And stab'd it round in every vital part;
Nor had I strength to bear the painful wound,
But fainted, and fell speechless to the ground;
And lost had been beyond Fate's power to save,
Had not these words recall'd me from the grave.

Amintor, rise, give Ear to what I speak;
I bring the Cure, the onely Cure you seek:
Despair no more (the bane of all delight)
Shall break your peace by day, your rest by night,
But, chas'd by me, take everlasting flight:
Vp then, to meet thy coming Ioy prepare,
And think me now as gentle as thou'st thought me fair.

Reviv'd with these kind words I upward sprung,
But Fear had yet bar'd utt'rance from my Tongue:
A thousand doubts rowl'd in my troubl'd Breast,
While I stood trembling to expect the rest;
Kind though she seem'd, her Eyes commanded Death,
And my pale fate hung hov'ring o'er her Breath.

Dear Youth, continu'd she, the scorn I've shown
Was only to confirm you more my own;
For, if your Passion was unfeign'd and pure,
I knew all tryal 'twou'd with ease endure:
'Twas this to be assur'd of, made me feign
All the sharp rigours of unjust disdain;
And who, alas! will blame me, that reflects
How many of our frail believing Sex
Are ruin'd, lost, caught in the worst trapan,
By the fair specious Arts of faithless Man;
How oft ye vow y'are our eternal Slaves,
Then Tyrants grow and drive us to our Graves:
When once possest for what you feign'd to burn,
You treat us with disdain, neglect and scorn,
And mighty Love to rude contempt does turn:
Such thoughts as these made me with caution move,
And on a sure foundation build my Love;
For who e're gain'd it, I well knew wou'd find,
'Twas not the Passion of a fickle mind,
Changing as Tydes, and wav'ring with the Wind,
But fixt like Fate from whence its Essence came,
Ever to last, and always be the same:
And so, Amintor, so to you I give
A Heart, which for you only wisht to live.

Charm'd with the tuneful sound her Language bore,
I now was lost in Joy, as in despair before:
Not the least sign of sorrow did remain,
This one blest moment cancell'd all my pain:
So a new enter'd Saint through Heav'n does range,
And so does wonder at his happy change.
At last, recover'd from the Trance, I spoke,
And in these words the pleasing silence broke.

Thou truest Image of the Powers above,
For they, like you, will frown on him they love;
But when through much Adversity h' has past,
Like you, they bounteously reward at last;
For Perseverance gains their love divine,
And Perseverance too, has gain'd me thine.
Thou'st sav'd me from despair and rais'd me higher
Than my most tow'ring wish e're durst aspire.
O how shall I enough thy worth declare!
How sweet! how soft! how merciful and fair!
Description droops when I'de thy praise relate,
And Language fails beneath the pond'rous weight.
O strange reverse! —Oft have I sent my cries,
Through yielding Air, up echoing to the Skies:
How oft in each thick Melancholy Grove
Have I sat mourning my improsp'rous Love?
How oft did I to senseless Trees complain?
Whose whistling leaves wisper'd back grief again:
Hard stones of Adamant ev'n seem'd to hear,
And, in Compassion, oft wou'd drop a Tear;
But harder you ne'r wept, or lent a pitying Ear.
So moving was each tender sigh and groan,
Ev'n Philomel has ceas'd her midnight mone,
And thought my melancholy strains more pitious than her own.
'Vnkind, Relentless Caelia, wou'd I cry,
'Must I thus scorn'd and thus unpitied dy?
'Wou'd she vouchsafe one smile to ease the Slave,
'I'de go without reluctance to the Grave;
'But she denies me that; what then remains
'But with one stroke to free me from her Chains?
'In Death the Lover's eas'd from all unjust,
'Her pointed Frowns can't reach me in the Dust.
Such were the words my wild despair let fall,
But this blest moment has o're paid 'em all.

Thus I, methought, my Passion's progress mourn'd,
When, Caelia, weeping, this reply return'd.
Amintor, how shall I your Peace restore?
Or how reward the Pangs for me y'ave bore?
My Love, I fear, is a return too small;
Take with it then my Life, my Soul, my all!
All! (cry'd I) — By Heav'n the Gift's so great,
As ev'n in Angels might Desire create,
And make 'em wish they mortal were, like me,
T' enjoy so fair an Excellence as thee!
Who if I ever cease t' adore and love,
May darted vengeance brand me from above,
And, if 'tis possible, to plague me more,
Plunge me in sorrow deeper than before.
What then, Dear Charmer, what remains but this?
What? but to rush on our approaching bliss; —
But first, we'll seal the Contract with a kiss.
But, Ah! no sooner had the cursed sound
Of those last words unwary utt'rance found,
But the fair Vision took her unseen flight
And swiftly vanish't through the shades of night.
Awak't, I started up and gaz'd around,
But not one glimpse of the dear shadow found,
'Twas gone! 'twas gone! and with it fled away
All the dear hope I had of future Joy!

Eternally relentless Pow'rs above!
Must all my constant sighs so fruitless prove
As not to pierce the heart of her I love?
Must I for ever be (O cursed State!)
The wretched mark of her obdurate hate?
Must I for ever in these pangs remain?
Doom'd to love on, yet doom'd to love in vain
But, 'tis your will, and I must not complain.
Yet, O ye Powers, had you been my Friend
So far, to've let the Vision known no end,
That raptur'd with Imaginary Charms,
I might have slept whole Ages in her Arms;
Of all th' unnumber'd Joys you have in store
For Vertue, nothing cou'd have pleas'd me more:
But Ah! when we expect a sure relief,
To find we are but deeper fixt in grief,
Is of all human Curses, sure, the chief;
For know, O Caelia, O disdainful fair,
I must still love thee, though I still despair.