Classic Poem

Theseus! O Theseus heark! but yet in vain
Alas deserted I Complain,
It was some neighbouring Rock, more soft than he,
Whose hollow Bowels pittied me,
And beating back that false, and Cruell Name,
Did Comfort and revenge my flame.
Then Faithless whither wilt thou fly?
Stones dare not harbour Cruelty.

Tell me you Gods who e'r you are,
Why, O why made you him so fair?
And tell me, Wretch, why thou
Mad'st not thy self more true?
Beauty from him may Copies take,
And more Majestique Heroes make,
And falshood learn a Wile,
From him too, to beguile.
Restore my Clew
'Tis here most due,
For 'tis a Labyrinth of more subtile Art,
To have so fair a Face, so foul a Heart.

The Ravenous Vulture tear his Breast,
The rowling Stone disturb his rest,
Let him next feel
Ixion 's Wheel,
And add one Fable more
To cursing Poets store;
And then — yet rather let him live, and twine
His Woof of daies, with some thred stoln from mine;
But if you'l torture him, how e'r,
Torture my Heart, you'l find him there.

Till my Eyes drank up his,
And his drank mine,
I ne'r thought Souls might kiss,
And Spirits joyn:
Pictures till then
Took me as much as Men,
Nature and Art
Moving alike my heart,
But his fair Visage made me find
Pleasures and Fears,
Hopes, Sighs, and Tears,
As severall seasons of the Mind.
Should thine Eye, Venus , on his dwell,
Thou wouldst invite him to thy Shell,
And Caught by that live Jet
Venture the second Net,
And after all thy dangers, faithless he,
Shouldst thou but slumber, would forsake ev'n thee.

The Streames so Court the yeelding Banks,
And gliding thence ne'r pay their thanks;
The Winds so wooe the Flow'rs,
Whisp'ring among fresh Bow'rs,
And having rob'd them of their smels,
Fly thence perfum'd to other Cels.
This is familiar Hate to Smile and Kill,
Though nothing please thee yet my Ruine will.
Death hover, hover o'r me then,
Waves let your Christall Womb
Be both my Fate, and Tomb,
I'l sooner trust the Sea, than Men.
Yet for revenge to Heaven I'l call
And breath one Curse before I fall,
Proud of two Conquests Minotaure , and Me,
That by my Faith, This by thy Perjury,
Mayst thou forget to Wing thy Ships with White,
That the Black Sayl may to the longing sight
Of thy Gray Father, tell thy Fate, and He
Bequeath the Sea his Name, falling like me:
Nature and Love thus brand thee, whiles I dye
'Cause thou forsak'st, Ægeus cause thou drawest nigh.

And yee O Nymphs below who sit,
In whose swift Flouds his Vows he writ;
Snatch a sharp Diamond from the richer Mines,
And in some Mirrour grave these sadder Lines,
Which let some God Convey
To him, that so he may
In that both read at once, and see
Those Looks that Caus'd my destiny.
In Thetis Arms I Ariadne sleep,
Drown'd first by my own Tears, then in the deep;
Twice banish'd, First by Love, and then by Hate,
The life that I preserv'd became my Fate;
Who leaving all, was by him left alone,
That from a Monster freed himself prov'd one.

Thus then — — But look! O mine Eyes
Be now true Spies,
Yonder, yonder,
Comes my Dear,
Now my wonder,
Once my fear,
See Satyrs dance along
In a confused Throng,
Whiles Horns and Pipes rude noise
Do mad their lusty Joyes,
Roses his forehead Crown,
And that recrowns the Flow'rs,
Where he walks up and down
He makes the desarts Bow'rs,
The Ivy, and the Grape
Hide, not adorn his Shape.
And Green Leaves Cloath his waving Rod,
'Tis either Theseus , or some God.