ALAS! the wretched lover straight replied, The bird was all I could for you provide; 'Twas served for dinner.--Dead?--exclaimed the dame, While trembling terror overspread her frame. No jest, said he, and from the soul I wish, My heart, instead of that, had been the dish; But doomed alas! am I by fate, 'tis clear, To find no grace with her my soul holds dear: I'd nothing left; and when I saw the bird, To kill it instantly the thought occurred; Those naught we grudge nor spare to entertain, Who o'er our feeling bosoms sov'reign reign: All I can do is speedily to get, Another falcon: easily they're met; And by to-morrow I'll the bird procure. No, Fred'rick, she replied, I now conjure You'll think no more about it; what you've done Is all that fondness could have shown a son; And whether fate has doomed the child to die, Or with my prayers the pow'rs above comply; For you my gratitude will never end-- Pray let us hope to see you as a friend.
THEN Clytia took her leave, and gave her hand; A proof his love no more she would withstand. He kissed and bathed her fingers with his tears; The second day grim death confirmed their fears:
THE mourning lasted long and mother's grief; But days and months at length bestowed relief; No wretchedness so great, we may depend, But what, to time's all-conqu'ring sithe will bend:
TWO famed physicians managed with such care; That they recovered her from wild despair, And tears gave place to cheerfulness and joy:-- The one was TIME the other Venus' Boy. Her hand fair Clytia on the youth bestowed, As much from love as what to him she owed.
LET not this instance howsoe'r mislead; 'Twere wrong with hope our fond desires to feed, And waste our substance thus:--not all the FAIR, Possess of gratitude a decent share. With this exception they appear divine; In lovely WOMAN angel-charms combine; The whole indeed I do not here include; Alas; too many act the jilt and prude. When kind, they're ev'ry blessing found below: When otherwise a curse we often know.
THE key, which opes the chest of hoarded gold. Unlocks the heart that favours would withhold. To this the god of love has oft recourse, When arrows fail to reach the secret source, And I'll maintain he's right, for, 'mong mankind, Nice presents ev'ry where we pleasing find; Kings, princes, potentates, receive the same, And when a lady thinks she's not to blame, To do what custom tolerates around; When Venus' acts are only Themis' found, I'll nothing 'gainst her say; more faults than one, Besides the present, have their course begun.