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IL LATTE. AN ELEGY.
LONDON: Printed for J. DODSLEY in Pall-Mall. MDCCLXVII.
IL LATTE. An ELEGY.
[][]‘Incipe, parve puer, riſu cognoſcere matrem.’
YE fair, for whom the hands of Hymen weave
The nuptial wreath to deck your virgin brow,
While pleaſing pains the conſcious boſom heave,
And on the kindling cheek the bluſhes glow:
Whoſe ſpotleſs ſoul contains the better dow'r,
Whoſe life unſtain'd full many virtues vouch,
For whom now Venus frames the fragrant bow'r,
And ſcatters roſes o'er th' expecting couch:
[4]
To you I ſing.—Ah! ere the raptur'd youth
With trembling hand removes the jealous veil,
Where, long regardleſs of the vows of truth,
Unſocial coyneſs ſtamp'd th' ungrateful ſeal,
Allow the poet round your flowing hair,
Cull'd from an humble vale, a wreath to twine,
To Beauty's altar with the Loves repair,
And wake the lute beſide that living ſhrine:
That ſacred ſhrine! where female virtue glows,
Where ev'n the Graces all their treaſures bring,
And where the lily, temper'd with the roſe,
Harmonious contraſt! breathes an Eden ſpring:
[5]
That ſhrine! where Nature with preſaging aim,
What time her friendly aid Lucina brings,
The ſnowy nectar pours, delightful ſtream!
Where flutt'ring Cupids dip their purple wings:
For you who bear at mother's ſacred name,
Whoſe cradled offspring, in lamenting ſtrain,
With artleſs eloquence aſſerts his claim,
The boon of nature, but aſſerts in vain:
Say why, illuſtrious daughters of the great,
Lives not the nurſling at your tender breaſt?
By you protected in his frail eſtate?
By you attended, and by you careſs'd?
[6]
To foreign hands, alas! can you reſign
The parent's taſk, the mother's pleaſing care?
To foreign hands the ſmiling babe conſign?
While Nature ſtarts, and Hymen ſheds a tear.
When 'mid the poliſh'd circle ye rejoice,
Or roving join fantaſtic Pleaſure's train,
Unheard perchance the nurſling lifts his voice,
His tears unnotic'd, and unſooth'd his pain.
Ah! what avails the coral crown'd with gold?
In heedleſs infancy the title vain?
The colours gay the purfled ſcarfs unfold?
The ſplendid nurs'ry, and th' attendant train?
[7]
Far better hadſt thou firſt beheld the light,
Beneath the rafter of ſome roof obſcure;
There in a mother's eye to read delight,
And in her cradling arm repoſe ſecure.—
Nor wonder, ſhou'd Hygeia, bliſsful Queen!
Her wonted ſalutary gifts recall,
While haggard Pain applies his dagger keen,
And o'er the cradle Death unfolds his pall.
The flow'ret raviſh'd from its native air,
And bid to flouriſh in a foreign vale,
Does it not oft elude the planter's care,
And breathe its dying odors on the gale?
[8]
For you, ye plighted fair, when Hymen crowns
With tender offspring your unſhaken love,
Behold them not with rigor's chilling frowns,
Nor from your ſight unfeelingly remove.
Unſway'd by faſhion's dull unſeemly jeſt,
Still to the boſom let your infant cling,
There banquet oft, an ever-welcome gueſt,
Unblam'd inebriate at that healthful ſpring.
With fond ſolicitude each pain aſſuage,
Explain the look, awake the ready ſmile;
Unfeign'd attachment ſo ſhall you engage,
To crown with gratitude maternal toil:
[9]
So ſhall your daughters in affliction's day,
When o'er your form the gloom of age ſhall ſpread,
With lenient converſe chaſe the hours away,
And ſmooth with duty's hand the widow'd bed:
Approach, compaſſionate, the voice of grief,
And whiſper patience to the cloſing ear;
From comfort's chalice miniſter relief,
And in the potion drop a filial tear.
So ſhall your ſons, when beauty is no more,
When fades the languid luſtre in your eye,
When Flatt'ry ſhuns her dulcet notes to pour,
The want of beauty, and of praiſe, ſupply:
[10]
Ev'n from the wreath that decks the warrior's brow
Some choſen leaves your peaceful walks ſhall ſtrew:
And ev'n the flow'rs on claſſic ground that blow,
Shall all unfold their choiceſt ſweets for you.
When to th' embattled hoſt the trumpet blows,
While at the call fair Albion's gallant train
Dare to the field their triple-number'd foes,
And chaſe them ſpeeding o'er the martial plain:
The mother kindles at the glorious thought,
And to her ſon's renown adjoins her name;
For, at the nurt'ring breaſt, the hero caught
The love of virtue, and the love of fame.
[11]
Or in the ſenate when Britannia's cauſe
With gen'rous themes inſpires the glowing mind,
While liſt'ning freedom grateful looks applauſe,
Pale ſlav'ry drops her chain, and ſculks behind:
With conſcious joy the tender parent fraught,
Still to her ſon's renown adjoins her name;
For, at the nurt'ring breaſt, the patriot caught
The love of virtue, and the love of fame.
FINIS.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4601 Il latte An elegy. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5BD6-D