When passion did their hearts employ,
And o'er them breathed the blissful hour,
Mild Venus freely found them joy
In every leafy bower.
No chaperone was there, no door
Against a lover's sighs to stand.
Delicious age! May Heaven restore
Its customs to our land!
Nay, take me! In my lady's train
Some stubborn field I fain would plough
Lay on the lash and clamp the chain!
I bear them meekly now.
ELEGY THE FOURTH
ON HIS LADY'S AVARICE
A woman's slave am I, and know it well.
Farewell, my birthright! farewell, liberty!
In wretched slavery and chains I dwell,
For love's sad captives never are set free.
Whether I smile or curse, love just the same
Brands me and burns. O, cruel woman, spare!
O would I were a rock, to 'scape this flame
Far off upon the frosty mountains there!
Would I were flint, to front the tempest's power,
Wave-buffeted on some wild, wreckful shore!
My sad days bring worse nights, and every hour
Fills me some cup of gall and brims it o'er.
What use are songs? Her greedy hands disdain
Apollo's gift.
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