Classic Poem

Iphis , of vulgar Birth, by Chance had view'd
Fair Anaxarete of Teucer 's Blood
Not long had he beheld the Royal Dame,
E're the bright Sparkle kindled into Flame
Oft did he struggle with a just Despair,
Unfix'd to ask, unable to forbear.
" But Love, who flatters still his own Disease,
" Hopes all things will succeed, he knows will please.
Where-e'er the fair one haunts, he hovers there;
And seeks her Confident with Sighs, and Pray'r
Or Letters he conveys, that seldom prove
" Successless Messengers in Suits of Love.
Now shiv'ring at her Gates the Wretch appears,
And Myrtle Garlands on the Columns rears,
Wet with a Deluge of unbidden Tears
The Nymph more hard than Rocks, more deaf than Seas,
Derides his Pray'rs; insults his Agonies;
Arraigns of Insolence th' aspiring Swain;
And takes a cruel Pleasure in his Pain.
Resolv'd at last to finish his Despair,
He thus upbraids th' inexorable Fair — —
O Anaxarete , at last forget
" The Licence of a Passion indiscreet.
Now Triumph, since a welcome Sacrifice
Your Slave prepares, to offer to your Eyes.
My Life, without Reluctance, I resign;
That Present best can please a Pride, like Thine.
But, O! forbear to blast a Flame so bright,
Doom'd never to expire, but with the Light
And you, great Pow'rs, do Justice to my Name;
The Hours, you take from Life, restore to Fame
Then o'er the Posts, once hung with Wreaths, he throws
The ready Cord, and fits the fatal Noose;
For Death prepares; and bounding from above,
At once the Wretch concludes his Life and Love.
E're long the People gather, and the Dead
Is to his mourning Mother's Arms, convey'd.
First, like some ghastly Statue, she appears;
Then baths the breathless Coarse in Seas of Tears,
And gives it to the Pile; now as the Throng
Proceed in sad Solemnity along,
To view the passing Pomp, the cruel Fair
Hastes, and beholds her breathless Lover there.
Struck with the sight, inanimate she seems;
Set are her Eyes, and motionless her Limbs:
Her Features without Fire, her Colour gone,
And, like her Heart, she hardens into Stone.
In Salamis the Statue still is seen
In the fam'd Temple of the Cyprian Queen.
Warn'd by this Tale, no longer then disdain,
O Nymph belov'd, to ease a Lover's Pain.
So may the Frosts in Spring your Blossoms spare,
And Winds their rude Autumnal Rage forbear.
The Story oft Vertumnus urg'd in vain,
But then assum'd his heav'nly Form again.
Such Looks, and Lustre the bright Youth adorn,
As when with Rays glad Phaebus paints the Morn
The Sight so warms the fair admiring Maid,
Like Snow she melts: So soon can Youth persuade
Consent, on eager Wings, succeeds Desire;
And both the Lovers glow with mutual Fire.