Classic Poem

TO A YOUNG LADY ON A BAMBOO FAN, ACCIDENTALLY TORN .

Erst , wanton Toy, 'twas thine to move,
By beauty's lovely queen caressed;
While, waving, like the wing of love,
Thou fanned'st a flame in every breast!
'Twas thine, in her imperial hand,
The cold to warm, the proud subdue;
The female Franklin's magic wand,
Olivia's sceptre, sweet Bamboo!

Whene'er the Nymph displayed thy charms
Thy airy flutters graceful move;
Each bosom, throbbing soft alarms,
Appeared n aspen leaf of love.
And while, too fondly, thought the maid
To smile unseen, when veiled by you;
Her treacherous eyes the plot betrayed,
And dazzled through the thin Bamboo.

But oh! ye L OVES , whence heaves that sigh,
And whence those tears, ye Graces, flow?
Why swells the sorrow-glistening eye?
Why ventilates the breast of woe?
" 'Tis rent! Olivia's fan is rent!
" Farewell, our triumphs! Fame, adieu! "
Alas! — But why, this wound lament?
'Tis glory to your loved Bamboo!

Two rival Zephyrs, knights of air,
Contended for Olivia's lip;
To dwell, like Epicureans there,
And riot on the nect'rous sip;
To that pure fount, of chaste delight,
These Chesterfields of aether flew;
Rushed on the Fan, which checked their sight,
And rudely tore the soft Bamboo.

Ah! could I gain the ear of Jove,
To list propitious to my prayer,
This sole request my wish should prove,
That I thy envied form might bear.
Then, from the nymph I'd steal a kiss,
And sigh, in plaintive zephyrs too;
While tender tales of love and bliss,
I'd whisper from the fond Bamboo!