IDYL XXIII.

THE DESPAIRING LOVER.

ARGUMENT.

A youth, enamoured of a cruel one, having given himself up to despair, went and presented himself at the gate of his beloved, where, after uttering such expostulations and complaints as suited his melancholy case, he put himself out of fortune's power by hanging himself. The person he loved is represented as passing by his corse with indifference, and spitting on it in contempt and abhorrence; but going to the bath is killed by the fall of a marble statue of the god of love.

IDYL XXIII.

THE DESPAIRING LOVER.

A YOUTH was love-sick for a maid unkind, Whose form was blameless, but not so her mind. She scorned her lover and his suit disdained; One gentle thought she never entertained.

She knew not Love-what sort of god, what darts From what a bow he shoots at youthful hearts! Her lips were strangers to soft gentleness,

And she was difficult of all access.

She had no word to soothe his scorching fire,

No sparkle of the lip; no moist desire

To her bright eyes a dewy lustre lent;
Blushed on her cheek no crimson of consent;

She breathed no word of sighing born

no kiss

That lightens love, and turns its pain to bliss.

S

But as the wild game from his thicket spies
The train of hunters with suspicious eyes,
So she her lover; ever did she turn

Toward him scornful lip, and eye-glance stern.
She was his fate: and on her glooming face,
The scorn that burned within her left its trace.
Her colour fled; and every feature shewed

Pale from the rage that in her bosom glowed.
Yet even so she was how fair to see!

The more she scorned him, still the more loved he.
At last by Cypris scorched without her cure,
He could no more the raging flame endure.
He went and kist her door, and tears he shed,
And 'midst his tears and kisses sadly said :—

"Harsh, cruel girl! stone-heart and pitiless! The nurseling of some savage lioness, Unworthy love! my latest gift I bring, This noose-no more will I thine anger sting. But now I go where thou hast sentenced me The common road which all reports agree Must at some time by all that live be gone, And where love's cure is found-Oblivion. Ah! could I drink it all, I should not slake My passionate longing: at thy gates I take

My last farewell, thereto commit indeed
My latest sigh. The future I can read
The rose is beautiful, the rose of prime,,
But soon it withers at the touch of time;
And beautiful in spring-time to behold

old;

The violet, but ah! it soon grows
White are the lilies, but they soon decay;
White is the snow, but soon it melts away;
And beautiful the bloom of virgin youth,
Bnt lives a very little time in sooth.

Thy time will come-thou too at last shalt prove,
And weep most bitterly, the flames of love.

But grant, I pray thee, grant my latest prayer;

When thou shalt see me hanging high in air,

E'en at thy door

O pass not heedless by !

But drop a few tears to my memory.

From the harsh thong unloose thy hapless lover,

And from thy limbs a garment take, and cover

The lifeless body, and the last kiss give;

Fear not that haply I may come alive
At thy lip's touch—I cannot live again ;
Thy kiss, if given in love, were given in vain!
Hollow a mound to hide my love's sad end,

And thrice on leaving cry, here lie, my friend!'