s of age betray,
Ere at his powerful touch the fetters fall,
Which many a moon thy captive limbs shall gall:
Yet will I grant thy suit, and give to view
The various fortunes of the captive crew:
But mark their leader first, that chief renown'd--
The Power of Love! by every nation own'd.
His sway thou soon, as well as we, shalt know,
Stung to the heart by goads of dulcet woe.
In him unthinking youth's misgovern'd rage,
Join'd with the cool malignity of age,
Is known to mingle with insidious guile,
Deep, deep conceal'd beneath an infant's smile.
The child of slothful ease, and sensual heat--
By sweet delirious thoughts, in dark retreat,
Mature in mischief grown--he springs away,
A winged god, and thousands own his sway.
Some, as thou seest, are number'd with the dead,
And some the bitter drops of sorrow shed
Through lingering life, by viewless tangles bound,
That link the soul, and chain it to the ground.
There Caesar walks! of Celtic laurels proud.
Nor feels himself in sensual bondage bow'd:
He treads the flowery path, nor sees the snare
Laid for his honour by the Egyptian fair.
Here Love his triumph shows, and leads along
The world's great owner in the captive throng;
And o'er the master of unscepter'd kings
Exulting soars, and claps his purple wings.
See his adopted son! he knew her guile,
And nobly scorn'd the siren of the Nile;
Yet fell by Roman charms and from her spouse
The pregnant consort bore, regardless of her vows
There, cruel Nero feels his iron heart
Lanced by imperious Love's resistless dart;
Replete with rage, and scorning human ties,
He falls the victim of two conquering eyes;
Deep ambush'd there in philosophic spoils,
The little tyrant tries his artful wiles:
E'en in that hallow'd breast, where, deep enshrined,
Lay all the varied treasures of the mind,
He lodged his venom'd shaft. The hoary sage,
Like meaner mortals, felt the passion rage
In boundless fury for a strumpet's charms,
And clasp'd the shining mischief in his arms.--
See Dionysius link'd with Pherae's lord,
Pale doubt and dread on either front abhorr'd.
Scowl terrible! yet Love assign'd their doom;
A wife and mistress mark'd them for the tomb!--
The next is he that on Antandros' coast
His fair Creusa mourn'd, for ever lost;
Yet c