Complete Works of William Congreve Page 5
Thou, at whose Fall, ev’n Jove himself was mov’d,
And sent a God his dread Commands to bear,
So far thou wert high Heav’n’s peculiar Care!
From fierce Achilles’ Chains thy Corps was freed; 105
So kind a Fate was for none else decreed:
My other Sons, made Pris’ners by his Hands,
Were sold like Slaves, and shipt to foreign Lands.
Thou too wert sentenc’d by his barb’rous Doom,
And dragg’d, when dead, about Patroclus Tomb, 110
His lov’d Patroclus, whom thy Hands had slain;
And yet that Cruelty was urg’d in vain,
Since all could not restore his Life again.
Now fresh and glowing, even in Death thou art,
And fair as he who fell by Phcebus’ Dart. 115
Here weeping Hecuba her Passion stay’d,
And Universal Moan again was made;
When Helen’s Lamentation hers supply’d,
And thus, aloud, that fatal Beauty cry’d.
Helen’s Lamentation.
O Hector, thou wert rooted in my Heart, 120
No Brother there had half so large a Part:
Not less than twenty Years are now pass’d o’re,
Since first I landed on the Trojan Shore;
Since I with Godlike Paris fled from home;
(Would I had dy’d before that Day had come!) 125
In all which time (so gentle was thy Mind)
I ne’er could charge thee with a Deed unkind;
Not one untender Word, or Look of Scorn,
Which I too often have from others born.
But you from their Reproach still set me free, 130
And kindly have reprov’d their Cruelty;
If by my Sisters, or the Queen revil’d,
(For the good King, like you, was ever mild)
Your Kindness still has all my Grief beguil’d.
Ever in Tears let me your Loss bemoan, 135
Who had no Friend alive, but you alone:
All will reproach me now, where-e’er I pass,
And fly with Horror from my hated Face.
This said; she wept, and the vast Throng was mov’d,
And with a gen’ral Sigh her Grief approv’d. 140
When Priam (who had heard the mourning Crowd)
Rose from his Seat, and thus he spake aloud.
Cease your Lamentings, Trojans, for a while,
And fell down Trees to build a Fun’ral Pile;
Fear not an Ambush by the Grecians laid, 145
For with Achilles twelve Days Truce I made.
He spake, and all obey’d as with one Mind,
Chariots were brought, and Mules and Oxen join’d;
Forth from the City all the People went,
And nine Days Space was in that Labour spent; 150
The Tenth, a most stupendous Pile they made,
And on the Top the Manly Hector laid,
Then gave it Fire; while all, with weeping Eyes,
Beheld the rolling Flames and Smoak arise.
All Night they wept, and all the Night it burn’d; 155
But when the Rosie Morn with Day return’d,
About the Pile the thronging People came,
And with black Wine quench’d the remaining Flame.
His Brothers then, and Friends search’d ev’ry where,
And gath’ring up his snowy Bones with Care, 160
Wept o’er ’em; when an Urn of Gold was brought,
Wrapt in soft Purple Balls, and richly wrought,
In which the Sacred Ashes were interr’d,
Then o’er his Grave a Monument they rear’d.
Mean time, strong Guards were plac’d, and careful Spies, 165
To watch the Grecians, and prevent Surprize.
The Work once ended, all the vast Resort
Of mourning People went to Priam’s Court;
There they refresh’d their weary Limbs with Rest,
Ending the Fun’ral with a Solemn Feast. 170
PARAPHRASE UPON HORACE.
ODE XIX. LIB. I.
Mater sceva Cupidinum, &c.
I.
THE Tyrant Queen of soft Desires,
With the resistless Aid of sprightly Wine
And wanton Ease, conspires
To make my Heart its Peace resign,
And re-admit Love’s long rejected Fires. 5
For beauteous Glycera I burn,
The Flames so long repell’d with double Force return:
Matchless her Face appears, and shines more bright
Than polish’d Marble when reflecting Light;
Her very Coyness warms; 10
And with a grateful Sullenness she charms:
Each Look darts forth a thousand Rays,
Whose Lustre an unwary Sight betrays,
My Eye-balls swim, and I grow giddy while I gaze.
II.
She comes! she comes! she rushes in my Veins! 15
At once all Venus enters, and at large she reigns!
Cyprus no more with her Abode is blest,
I am her Palace, and her Throne my Breast.
Of Savage Scythian Arms no more I write,
Or Parthian Archers, who in flying fight, 20
And make rough War their Sport;
Such idle Themes no more can move,
Nor any thing but what’s of high Import:
And what’s of high Import, but Love?
Vervain and Gums, and the green Turf prepare; 25
With Wine of two Years old, your Cups be fill’d:
After our Sacrifice and Pray’r,
The Goddess may incline her Heart to yield.
STANZA’S IN IMITATION OF HORACE, LIB. II. ODE XIV.
Eheu Fugaces, Posthume, Posthume,
Labuntur Anni, &c.
I.
AH! no, ’tis all in vain, believe me ’tis,
This Pious Artifice.
Not all these Pray’rs and Alms can buy
One Moment tow’rd Eternity.
Eternity! that boundless Race, 5
Which Time himself can never run:
(Swift, as he flies, with an unweary’d Pace,)
Which, when ten thousand, thousand Years are done,
Is still the same, and still to be begun.
Fix’d are those Limits, which prescribe 10
A short Extent to the most lasting Breath;
And tho’ thou cou’dst for Sacrifice lay down
Millions of other Lives to save thy own,
‘Twere fruitless all; not all would bribe
One Supernumerary Gasp from Death. 15
II.
In vain’s thy inexhausted Store
Of Wealth, in vain thy Pow’r;
Thy Honours, Titles, all must fail,
Where Piety it self can nought avail.
The Rich, the Great, the Innocent and Just, 20
Must all be huddled to the Grave,
With the most Vile and Ignominious Slave,
And undistinguish’d lye in Dust.
In vain the Fearful flies Alarms,
In vain he is secure from Wounds of Arms, 25
In vain avoids the faithless Seas,
And is confin’d to Home and Ease,
Bounding his Knowledge, to extend his Days.
In vain are all those Arts we try,
All our Evasions, and Regret to die: 30
From the Contagion of Mortality,
No Clime is pure, no Air is free:
And no Retreat
Is so Obscure, as to be hid from Fate.
III.
Thou must, alas! thou must, my Friend; 35
(The very Hour thou now dost spend
In studying to avoid, brings on thy End)
Thou must forego the dearest Joys of Life;
Leave the warm Bosom of thy tender Wife,
And all the much-lov’d Off-spring of her Womb, 40
To moulder in the cold Embraces o
f a Tomb.
All must be left, and all be lost;
Thy House, whose stately Structure so much cost,
Shall not afford
Room for the stinking Carkass of its Lord. 45
Of all thy pleasant Gardens, Grots and Bow’rs,
Thy costly Fruits, thy far-fetch’d Plants and Flow’rs,
Nought shalt thou save;
Or but a Sprig of Rosemary shalt have,
To wither with thee in the Grave: 50
The rest shall live and flourish, to upbraid
Their Transitory Master Dead.
IV.
Then shall thy long-expecting Heir,
A joyful Mourning wear:
And Riot in the Waste of that Estate 55
Which thou hast taken so much Pains to get.
All thy hid Stores he shall unfold,
And set at large thy Captive Gold.
That precious Wine, condemn’d by thee
To Vaults and Prisons, shall again be free: 60
Bury’d alive tho’ now it lyes,
Again shall rise,
Again its sparkling Surface show,
And free as Element, profusely flow.
With such high Food he shall set forth his Feasts, 65
That Cardinals shall wish to be his Guests;
And pamper’d Prelates see
Themselves out-done in Luxury.
IN IMITATION OF HORACE. ODE IX. LIB. I.
Vides ut alta, &c.
I.
BLESS me, ’tis cold! how chill the Air!
How naked does the World appear!
But see (big with the Off-spring of the North)
The teeming Clouds bring forth:
A Show’r of soft and fleecy Rain 5
Falls, to new-cloath the Earth again.
Behold the Mountain-Tops, around,
As if with Fur of Ermins crown’d:
And lo! how by Degrees
The universal Mantle hides the Trees, 10
In hoary Flakes, which downward fly,
As if it were the Autumn of the Sky,
Whose Fall of Leaf would theirs supply:
Trembling, the Groves sustain the Weight, and bow
Like aged Limbs, which feebly go 15
Beneath a venerable Head of Snow.
II.
Diffusive Cold does the whole Earth invade,
Like a Disease, through all its Veins ’tis spread,
And each late living Stream is numb’d and dead.
Let’s melt the frozen Hours, make warm the Air; 20
Let chearful Fires SoPs feeble Beams repair;
Fill the large Bowl with sparkling Wine;
Let’s drink, ‘till our own Faces shine,
‘Till we like Suns appear,
To light and warm the Hemisphere. 25
Wine can dispense to all both Light and Heat,
They are with Wine incorporate:
That pow’rful Juice, with which no Cold dares mix,
Which still is fluid, and no Frost can fix;
Let that but in Abundance flow, 30
And let it Storm and Thunder, Hail and Snow,
’Tis Heav’n’s Concern; and let it be
The Care of Heav’n still, for me:
These Winds, which rend the Oaks and plough the Seas,
Great Jove can, if he please, 35
With one commanding Nod appease.
III.
Seek not to know to Morrow’s Doom;
That is not ours, which is to come.
The present Moment’s all our Store:
The next, should Heav’n allow, 40
Then this will be no more:
So all our Life is but one Instant Now.
Look on each Day you’ve past
To be a mighty Treasure won:
And lay each Moment out in haste; 45
We’re sure to live too fast,
And cannot live too soon.
Youth does a Thousand Pleasures bring,
Which from decrepid Age will fly;
The Flow’rs that flourish in the Spring, 50
In Winter’s cold Embraces die.
IV.
Now Love, that everlasting Boy, invites
To revel while you may, in soft Delights:
Now the kind Nymph yields all her Charms,
Nor yields in vain to youthful Arms. 55
Slowly she promises at Night to meet,
But eagerly prevents the Hour with swifter Feet.
To gloomy Groves and obscure Shades she flies,
There vails the bright Confession of her Eyes.
Unwillingly she stays, 60
Would more unwillingly depart,
And in soft Sighs conveys
The Whispers of her Heart.
Still she invites and still denies,
And vows she’ll leave you if y’are rude; 65
Then from her Ravisher she flies,
But flies to be pursu’d:
If from his Sight she does her self convey,
With a feign’d Laugh she will her self betray,
And cunningly instruct him in the Way. 70
SONG. I LOOK’D, AND I SIGH’D, AND I WISH’D I COU’D SPEAK
I.
I LOOK’D, and I sigh’d, and I wish’d I cou’d speak,
And very fain would have been at her;
But when I strove most my great Passion to break,
Still then I said least of the Matter.
II.
I swore to my self, and resolv’d I wou’d try 5
Some way my poor Heart to recover;
But that was all vain, for I sooner cou’d die,
Than live with forbearing to love her.
III.
Dear Ccelia be kind then; and since your own Eyes
By Looks can command Adoration, 10
Give mine leave to talk too, and do not despise
Those Oglings that tell you my Passion.
IV.
We’ll look, and we’ll love, and tho’ neither shou’d speak,
The Pleasure we’ll still be pursuing;
And so, without Words, I don’t doubt we may make 15
A very good end of this Wooing.
THE RECONCILIATION.
RECITATIVE.
FAIR Celia Love pretended,
And nam’d the Myrtle Bow’r,
Where Damon long attended
Beyond the promis’d Hour.
At length impatient growing
Of anxious Expectation,
His Heart with Rage o’erflowing,
He vented thus his Passion.
ODE.
To all the Sex deceitful,
A long and last Adieu;
Since Women prove ungrateful
As oft as Men prove true.
The Pains they cause are many,
And long and hard to bear,
The Joys they give (if any)
Few, short, and unsincere.
RECITATIVE.
But Celia now repenting
Her breach of Assignation,
Arriv’d with Eyes consenting
And sparkling Inclination.
Like Citherea smiling,
She blush’d, and laid his Passion;
The Shepherd ceas’d reviling,
And sung this Recantation.
PALINODE.
How engaging, how endearing,
Is a Lover’s Pain and Care!
And what Joy the Nymph’s appearing,
After Absence or Despair!
Women wise encrease Desiring,
By contriving kind Delays; 30
And advancing, or retiring,
All they mean is more to please.
ABSENCE.
ALAS! what Pains, what racking Thoughts he proves,
Who lives remov’d from her he dearest loves!
In cruel Absence doom’d past Joys to mourn,
And think on Hours that will no more return.
Oh! let me ne’er the
Pangs of Absence try, 5
Save me from Absence, Love, or let me die.
SONG. FALSE THOUGH SHE BE TO ME AND LOVE
FALSE though she be to me and Love,
I’ll ne’er pursue Revenge;
For still the Charmer I approve,
Tho’ I deplore her Change,
In Hours of Bliss we oft have met,
They could not always last;
And though the present I regret,
I’m grateful for the past.
SONG IN DIALOGUE, FOR TWO WOMEN.
I.
I LOVE, and am belov’d again,
Strephon no more shall sigh in vain;
I’ve try’d his Faith, and found him true,
And all my Coyness bid adieu.
Thus to Almighty Love I cry’d, 5
When angry, thus the God reply’d.
Blessings greater none can have,
Art thou not Amynta’s Slave?
Cease, fond Mortal, to implore,
For Love, Love himselfs no more. 10
SONG. CRUEL AMYNTA, CAN YOU SEE
I.
CRUEL Amynta, can you see
A Heart thus torn which you betray’d?
Love of himself ne’er vanquish’d me,
But through your Eyes the Conquest made.
II.
In Ambush there the Traitor lay, 5
Where I was led by faithless Smiles:
No Wretches are so lost as they,
Whom much Security beguiles.
SONG. SEE, SEE, SHE WAKES, SABINA WAKES!
I.
SEE, see, she wakes, Sabina wakes!
And now the Sun begins to rise;
Less glorious is the Morn that breaks
From his bright Beams, than her fair Eyes.
II.
With Light united, Day they give, 5
But diff’rent Fates e’er Night fulfil:
How many by his Warmth will live!
How many will her Coldness kill!
OCCASIONED ON A LADY’S HAVING WRIT VERSES IN COMMENDATION OF A POEM WHICH WAS WRITTEN IN PRAISE OF ANOTHER LADY.