Soon Death, with shadow-mantled head, will come, Soon palsied age will creep our way, Bidding love's flatteries at last be dumb, Unfit for old and gray. But light-winged Venus still is smiling fair: By night or noon we heed her call; To pound on midnight doors I still may dare, Or brave for love a brawl. I am a soldier and a captain good In love's campaign, and calmly yield To all who hunger after wounds and blood, War's trumpet-echoing field. Ye toils and triumphs unto glory dear! Ye riches home from conquest borne! If my small fields their wonted harvest bear, Both wealth and want I scorn! ELEGY THE SECOND LOVE AND WITCHCRAFT Bring larger bowls and give my sorrows wine, By heaviest slumbers be my brain possessed! Soothe my sad brows with Bacchus' gift divine, Nor wake me while my hapless passions rest! For Delia's jealous master at her door Has set a watch, and bolts it with stern steel. May wintry tempests strike it o'er and o'er, And amorous Jove crash through with thunder-peal! My sighs alone, O Door, should pierce thee through, Or backward upon soundless hinges turn. The curses my mad rhymes upon thee threw,-- Forgive them!--Ah! in my own breast they burn! May I not move thee to remember now How oft, dear Door, thou wert love's place of prayer? While with fond kiss and supplicating vow, I hung thee o'er with many a garland fair? In vain the prayer! Thine own resolve must break Thy prison, Delia, and its guards evade. Bid them defiance for thy lover's sake! Be bold! The brave bring Venus to their aid. 'Tis Venus guides a youth through doors unknown; 'Tis taught of her, a maid with firm-set lips Steals from her soft couch, silent and alone, And noiseless to her tryst securely trips. Her art it is, if with a husband near, A lady darts a love-lorn look and smile To one more blest; but languid sloth and fear Receive not Venus' perfect gift of guile. Trust Venus, too, t' avert the wretched wrath Of footpad, hungry for thy robe and ring! So safe and sacred is a lover's path, That common caution to the winds we fling. Oft-times I fail the wintry frost to feel, And drenching rains unheeded round me pour, If Delia comes at last with mute appeal, And, finger on her lip, throws wide the door. Away those lamps! Thou, man or maid, away! Great Venus wills not that her gifts be scanned. Ask me no names! Walk lightly there, I pray! Hold back thy tell-tale torch and curious hand! Yet fear not! Should some slave our loves behold, Let him look on, and at his liking stare! Hereafter not a whisper shall be told; By all the gods our innocence he'll swear. Or should one such from prudent silence swerve The chatterer who prates of me and thee Shall learn, too late, why Venus, whom I serve, Was born of blood upon a storm-swept sea.