But fruits their odour lost, and meats their taste,
If gentle Abra had not deck'd the feast:
Dishonour'd did the sparkling goblet stand,
Unless receiv'd from gentle Abra's hand;
And when the virgins form'd the evening choir,
Raising their voices to the master-lyre,
500
Too flat I thought this voice, and that too shrill;
One show'd too much, and one too little skill;
Nor could my soul approve the music's tone,
Till all was hush'd, and Abra sung alone.
Fairer she seem'd distinguish'd from the rest, 505
And better mien disclos'd, as better drest:
A bright tiara round her forehead ty'd,
To juster bounds confin❜d its rising pride;
The blushing ruby on her snowy breast,
Render'd its panting whiteness more confest,
Bracelets of pearl gave roundness to her arm,
And ev'ry gem augmented ev'ry charm:
Her senses pleas'd, her beauty still improv'd,
And she more lovely grew as more belov❜d.
And now I could behold, avow, and blame, 515
The several follies of my former flame,
Willing my heart for recompense to prove
The certain joys that lie in prosp❜rous love.
For what, said I, from Abra can I fear,
Too humble to insult, too soft to be severe ?
The damsel's sole ambition is to please;
With freedom I may like, and quit with ease:
She sooths, but never can enthral my mind :
Why may not peace and love for once be join'd?
Great Heav'n! how frail thy creature man is made!
How by himself insensibly betray'd!
In our own strength unhappily secure,
Too little cautious of the adverse pow'r,
And by the blast of self-opinion mov'd,
We wish to charm, and seck to be belov'd.
On pleasure's flowing brink we idly stray,
Masters as yet of our returning way;
Seeing no danger, we disarm our mind,
And give our conduct to the waves and wind;
Then in the flow'ry mead or verdant shade.
To wanton dalliance negligently laid,
We weave the chaplet and we crown the bowl,
And smiling see the nearer waters roll,
Till the strong gusts of raging passion rise,
Till the dire tempest mingles earth and skies, 540
And swift into the boundless ocean borne,
Our foolish confidence too late we mourn;
Round our devoted heads the billows beat,
And from our troubled view the lessen'd lands retreat.
O mighty Love! from thy unbounded pow'r, 545
How shall the human bosom rest secure?
How shall our thought avoid the various snare,
Or wisdom to our caution'd soul declare
The diff'rent shapes thou pleasest to employ
When bent to hurt, and certain to destroy?
The haughty nymph, in open beauty drest,
To-day encounteis our unguarded breast;
She looks with majesty, and moves with state:
Unbent her soul, and in misfortune great,
She scorns the world, and dares the rage of Fate.
Here whilst we take stern manhood for our guide,
And guard our conduct with becoming pride,
Charm'd with the courage in her action shown,
We praise her mind, the image of our own.
She that can please is certain to persuade;
To-day belov'd, to-morrow is obey'd.
We think we see thro' Reason's optics right,
Nor find how beauty's rays elude our sight:
Struck with her eye whilst we applaud her mind,
And when we speak her great we wish her kind. 565
To-morrow, cruel Pow'r? thou arm'st the fair
With flowing sorrow and dishevell❜d hair:
Sad her complaint, and humble is her tale,
Her sighs explaining where her accents fail:
Here gen'rous softness warms the honest breast; 570
We raise the sad, and succour the distrest,
And whilst our wish prepares the kind relief,
Whilst pity mitigates her rising grief,
We sicken soon from her contagious care,
Grieve for her sorrows, groan for her despair, 575
And against love, too late, those bosoms arm,
Which tears can soften, and which sighs can warm,
Against this nearest, cruelest of foes,
What shall wit meditate or force oppose?
Whence, feeble Nature, shall we summon aid,
If by our pity and our pride betray'd?
External remedy shall we hope to find,
When the close fiend has gain'd our treach'rous mind,
Insulting there does Reason's pow'r deride,
And, blind himself, conducts the dazzled guide?
My conqu❜ror now, my lovely Abra, held
My freedom in her chains; my heart was fill'd
With her, with her alone; in her alone
It sought its peace and joy: while she was gone
It sigh'd, and griev'd, impatient of her stay ; 590°
Return'd, she chas'd those sighs, that grief, away:
Her absence made the night; her presence brought
the day.
The ball, the play, the mask, by turns succeed :
For her I make the song; the dance with her I lead :
I court her, various, in each shape and dress
That luxury may form or thought express.
To-day beneath the palm-tree, on the plains,
In Deborah's arms and habit Abra reigns:
The wreath, denoting conquest, guides her brow,
And low, like Barak, at her feet I bow.
The mimic Chorus sings her prosp'rous hand,
As she had slain the foe and sav'd the land.
To-morrow she approves a softer air,
Forsakes the pomp and pageantry of war,
The form of peaceful Abigail assumes,
And from the village with the present comes:
The youthful band depose their glitt'ring arms,
Receive her bounties and recite her charms,
Whilst I assume my father's step and mien,
To meet, with due regard, my future queen.
If hap'ly Abra's will be now inclin'd
To range the woods or chase the flying hind,
Soon as the sun awakes, the sprightly court
Leave their repose, and hasten to the sport
In lessen'd royalty, and humble state,
Thy king, Jerusalem! descends to wait
Till Abra comes.
She comes; a milk-white steed,
Mixture of Persia's and Arabia's breed,
Sustains the nymph: her garments flying loose 620
(As the Sidonian maids or Thracian use)
And half her knee, and half her breast appear,
By art, like negligence, disclos'd, and bare.
Her left hand guides the hunting courser's flight:
A silver bow she carries in her right,
And from the golden quiver at her side,
Rustles the ebon arrow's feather'd pride;
Saphires and diamonds on her front display
An artificial moon's increasing ray.
Diana, huntress, mistress of the groves,
The fav'rite Abra speaks, and looks, and moves.
Iler, as the present goddess, I obey,
Beneath her feet the captive game I lay;
The mingled Chorus sing Diana's fame,
Clarions and horns in louder peals proclaim
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