Classic Poem

ECLOGUE X

Meroe, Otys

M EROE . Otys , begin — —
Since he is gone, I'll fetch him to my Arms
By sacred Spells, and Force of Magick Charms,
Search in the Slime, you'll find the Cramp-fish there,
That, chilling stops whatever swims too near:
You'll find the Fish, that stays the labouring Ship,
Tho' ruffling Winds drive o'er the noisy Deep:
So Phorbas , while from me he perjur'd flies,
Is struck benumb'd, and fix'd with strange Surprize.
Look down auspicious Moon: too well you know
What Love will force, and potent Charms can do.
Take here, and drain the Sepia's inky Juice,
Sprinkle the Sea, and say, " I thus infuse
Sad gloomy Thoughts into the perjur'd Swain,
'Till he relenting sigh, and turn to love again."
Look down auspicious Moon: too well you know
What Love will force, and potent Charms can do.
Wreath three times thrice three Reeds, and sev'n times round
The Chaplets wave (strange Vertues have been found
In Numbers hid; and Energy divine,
In figur'd Spells, and the mysterious Trine).
Look down auspicious Moon: too well you know
What Love will force, and potent Charms can do.
Take here the rav'nous Dog, and wound him thro'.
Then cry aloud, " Phorbas , I strike for you;"
So may his Soul be pierc'd with fretting Pain,
'Till he relenting sigh, and turn to love again.
Look down auspicious Moon: too well you know
What Love will force, and potent Charms can do.
Go fetch dry Weeds; They lie on yonder Isle;
Then raise in corner'd Squares the artful Pile,
And force the kindled Heap with flaming Oyl:
So may his tortur'd Soul in Anguish mourn,
And as the Pile, so may the Triton burn.
Look down auspicious Moon; too well you know
What Love will force, and potent Charms can do.
I hear the hollowing Elves, and Midnight Shriek
Of wandring Ghosts, who now unbodied seek
Their lost Abodes, and restless ever roam;
Affright, ye Elves, and bring my Phorbas home.
Look down auspicious Moon; too well you know
What Love will force, and potent Charms can do.
While now the Flames consume the sacred Heap,
Sing Otys ; Try to lull my Soul asleep;
Delightful Sounds, when form'd by studious Art
Will kind Relief a while, and slumbring Ease impart;
They quell sad Thoughs, and raise from black Despair
The troubled Mind, and still the Voice of Care.
O TYS . Love once assay'd to swim; in wanton Play
He labouring strove to cut the liquid way;
He prest the Waters with extended Arms,
And as he mov'd, display'd a thousand Charms.
When tir'd with Sport, he would at length have flown,
His Wings were clog'd with Wet, and useless grown,
Flutt'ring he strove, but Moisture prest him down.
The God of Love is now to Seas confin'd,
No Triton must be proud, or Nymph unkind.
M ER . Cease Otys ; see, the Flame already dies,
Choak'd with dark smoaky Fumes, that circling rise.
Moisture imbib'd preserves the reeking Heap:
Sad Sign! — —
Nor will he burn, nor shall I cease to weep.
In vain we strive: No artful Spell can move,
No Charm will force unwilling Souls to love.