With inauspicious love, a wretched swain Pursued the fairest nymph of all the plain; Fairest indeed, but prouder far than fair, She plunged him hopeless in a deep despair: Her heavenly form too haughtily she prized, His person hated, and his gifts despised; Nor knew the force of Cupid's cruel darts, Nor feared his awful power on human hearts; But either from her hopeless lover fled, Or with disdainful glances shot him dead. No kiss, no look, to cheer the drooping boy, No word she spoke, she scorned even to deny; But, as a hunted panther casts about Her glaring eyes, and pricks her listening ears to scout; So she, to shun his toils, her cares employed, And fiercely in her savage freedom joyed. Her mouth she writhed, her forehead taught to frown, Her eyes to sparkle fires to love unknown; Her sallow cheeks her envious mind did shew, And every feature spoke aloud the curstness of a shrew. Yet could not he his obvious fate escape; His love still dressed her in a pleasing shape; And every sullen frown, and bitter scorn, But fanned the fuel that too fast did burn. Long time, unequal to his mighty pain, He strove to curb it, but he strove in vain; At last his woes broke out, and begged relief With tears, the dumb petitioners of grief; With tears so tender, as adorned his love, And any heart, but only hers, would move. Trembling before her bolted doors he stood, And there poured out the unprofitable flood; Staring his eyes, and hagard was his look; Then, kissing first the threshold, thus he spoke. Ah nymph, more cruel than of human race! Thy tygress heart belies thy angel face; Too well thou show'st thy pedigree from stone, Thy grandame's was the first by Pyrrha thrown; Unworthy thou to be so long desired; But so my love, and so my fate required. I beg not now (for 'tis in vain) to live; But take this gift, the last that I can give. This friendly cord shall soon decide the strife Betwixt my lingering love and loathsome life: This moment puts an end to all my pain; I shall no more despair, nor thou disdain. Farewell, ungrateful and unkind! I go Condemned by thee to those sad shades below. I go the extremest remedy to prove, To drink oblivion, and to drench my love: There happily to lose my long desires; But ah! what draught so deep to quench my fires? Farewell, ye never-opening gates, ye stones, And threshold guilty of my midnight moans! What I have suffered here ye know too well; What I shall do, the Gods and I can tell. The rose is fragrant, but it fades in time; The violet sweet, but quickly past the prime; White lilies hang their heads, and soon decay, And whiter snow in minutes melts away: Such is your blooming youth, and withering so; The time will come, it will, when you shall know