Lavinia to Aegisthus

SHUT from the World, and cloister'd from the Sun,
Ere half my Race of early Life is run,
Betray'd by hapless Love to endless Care,
Condemn'd to deep Distress, and dark Despair,
Why do I thus recal my fatal Woes,
Why, why by Recollection kill Repose?
—O Memory! Reviver of each Pain,
How long must I endure thy hated Reign?
Wilt thou for ever labor to renew
The pleasing Hours, which once, alas! I knew?
—Hours no more pleasing—the dear Youth is gone,
And with him ev'ry Happiness is flown.—
For ever must these Agonies remain,
Still must I wish for Ease, still wish in vain?
Why could not Love, that Tyrant of my Heart,
Cease his proud Reign, and with the Cause depart?
Why should his Pleasures but ideal be,
Yet all his Tortures prove—Reality?
—O come, thou first, thou best belov'd of Men,
Compose my raging Thoughts, and guide my Pen.
Teach me, like thee, to scorn these Frowns of Fate,
To laugh at Love, and all his idle State;
His soothing Joys without his Pains to feel;—
To this torn Breast that happy Art reveal.
Or, for these Pangs, which I thro' thee endure,
(Thou, who alone couldst cause, alone canst cure)
Teach me thy Loss no longer to regret;
O teach that harder Science—to forget.
—He hears not, or regardless hears my Moan,—
Must I endure these Pangs, and I alone?
'Tis just I should—my throbbing Sighs are vain;
I first indulg'd, and last should feel the Pain.

TRANSPORTED thus, I've fail'd in my Design;
'Tis Passion, and not Reason paints the Line.
I meant to speak the Virtues of his Youth,
His open Heart—his Honesty and Truth.
He is too gen'rous to augment my Care,
Or raise a Sorrow, which he would not share.

YE blooming Nymphs, who feel Love's tender Flame,
May worth like his the rising Transport claim!
Who dares each vicious Principle remove,
And scorns t'insult the Heart he cannot love.
Be such your Lot!—but ne'er like me to mourn
Or feel the Pains of Love without Return!

WHEN this poor Form shall in Oblivion lye,
When Hope, and Fear, and Joy neglected dye,
If e'er in after-times ye chance to stray,
Where the tall Elms mark yonder gloomy Way,
Th' Inscription read, which that most lov'd of Men
Has deign'd to dictate to my trembling Pen.