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.
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