The rage of love; your haughty heart shall burn In flames like mine, and meet a like return. Obdurate as you are, oh! hear at least My dying prayers, and grant my last request!-- When first you ope your doors, and, passing by, The sad ill-omened object meets your eye, Think it not lost a moment if you stay; The breathless wretch, so made by you, survey; Some cruel pleasure will from thence arise, To view the mighty ravage of your eyes. I wish (but oh! my wish is vain, I fear) The kind oblation of a falling tear. Then loose the knot, and take me from the place, And spread your mantle o'er my grisly face; Upon my livid lips bestow a kiss,-- O envy not the dead, they feel not bliss! Nor fear your kisses can restore my breath; Even you are not more pitiless than death. Then for my corpse a homely grave provide, Which love and me from public scorn may hide; Thrice call upon my name, thrice beat your breast, And hail me thrice to everlasting rest: Last, let my tomb this sad inscription bear;-- } "A wretch, whom love has killed, lies buried here; } "O passengers, Aminta's eyes beware." } Thus having said, and furious with his love, He heaved, with more than human force, to move A weighty stone, (the labour of a team,) And, raised from thence, he reached the neighbouring beam; Around its bulk a sliding knot he throws, And fitted to his neck the fatal noose; Then, spurning backward, took a swing, till death Crept up, and stopt the passage of his breath. The bounce burst ope the door; the scornful fair Relentless looked, and saw him beat his quivering feet in air; Nor wept his fate, nor cast a pitying eye, Nor took him down, but brushed regardless by; And, as she past, her chance or fate was such, Her garments touched the dead, polluted by the touch. Next to the dance, thence to the bath did move; The bath was sacred to the God of Love; Whose injured image, with a wrathful eye, Stood threatning from a pedestal on high. Nodding a while, and watchful of his blow, He fell, and, falling, crushed the ungrateful nymph below: Her gushing blood the pavement all besmeared; And this her last expiring voice was heard;-- "Lovers, farewell, revenge has reached my scorn; "Thus warned, be wise, and love for love return." DAPHNIS AND CHLORIS. FROM THE TWENTY SEVENTH IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS. DAPHNIS. The shepherd Paris bore the Spartan bride By force away, and then by force enjoyed; But I by free consent can boast a bliss, A fairer Helen, and a sweeter kiss. CHLORIS. Kisses are empty joys, and soon are o'er. DAPHNIS. A kiss betwixt the lips is something more. CHLORIS. I wipe my mouth, and where's your kissing then? DAPHNIS. I swear you wipe it to be kissed agen. CHLORIS.