Classic Poem

Whilst ev'ry grove that decks the rural scene,
Re-echoes with the note of tuneful spleen,
And fair M ELISSA , languid and opprest,
Sighs with the surfeit of unwelcome rest;
The wretched C LARA — hapless and forlorn,
With diff'rent cares, and sharper grief is torn!
Oh, had I stay'd in some sequester'd spot —
" The world forgetting — by the world forgot: "
Oh, had this form, in vain with jewels deckt,
Been humbly, meanly clad, in apron checkt;
In russet gown, with homely cap array'd,
(Like country maids, who love the rustic shade,)
With clumsy shoes, and handkerchief compleat,
Some village present, comfortably neat!
Far from the dazzling Ball, where torches burn,
And Love and Envy triumph in their turn —
In gentle peace my tortur'd hours had pass'd,
And Wedlock's ring had crown'd my cares at last.

Ah! what avails the bright Circassian bloom,
When hideous Plutus reigns in Cupid's room!
And Venus' self, surrounded by the Loves,
Might humbly feed alone her weary doves!
— Ah me! tho' ev'ry art of female taste,
My gentle friend, this once-lov'd figure grac'd!
Tho' beauteous ringlets o'er my forehead hung,
Light as the flatt'ry on A LCANDER'S tongue;
Tho' curious lace, of foreign worth possess'd,
Form'd a rich rampart round my snowy breast;
Tho' Grecian drap'ry, new from Fashion's hand,
The fascinating pow'r of conquest plann'd;
Vain was the batt'ry 'gainst my D AMON'S heart —
Vain were the charms of Nature and of Art!
A golden mine was sprung! — No rival force
Cou'd stop the foe, successful in her course.
D ORINDA — frightful, wealthy, and obscure,
Seiz'd the dear conquest that I held secure;
With secret — hopeless — with despairing rage,
I saw him fetter'd in her shining cage. —
Oh may he feel the captive's galling chain,
And beat his treach'rous wings for peace in vain!
— He seiz'd her hand, with looks of gay delight,
And ev'ry object vanish'd from my sight!
M ELISSA ! dost thou mourn thy tranquil lot?
Thou know'st not Mis'ry — Ah thou know'st it not
Most does it reign where Pleasure plays her part,
And tears the tend'rest fibres of the heart;
While stiff Decorum, like a buckram vest,
Inflames the wound which festers in the breast! —
The sprightly tune that wakes the sportive dance,
The heedless titter — the exulting glance —
'Tis mis'ry all — when Disappointment's dart
To poison turns the current of the heart;
Fair Solitude wou'd then a luxury be,
And ev'n the torments now deplor'd by thee.

Ye crowds, ye Balls! receive my last farewell!
For peace I fly, where gentle Peace may dwell,
In vain for conquest may we seek the ball,
" It comes unlook'd for — if it comes at all! "
Perhaps, my friend, 'tis safest — best — to win.
A secret conquest o'er the foe within.
No tumults then our pleasure shall invade,
Nor fears molest us in the rural shade;
And ev'n the matron smile, discreetly kind,
May yield sweet comfort to relieve the mind.
— Some calm pursuit may cheer the wintry eve,
Tho' beaux forsake us, and tho' belles deceive!