1809.] 
AMOR TIMIDO. 
FROM METASTASIO,. 
SAY, O my heart, to what high darling 
point 
Aspire thy restless wishes and thy sighs ? 
Who, in the foldings of thy little all, 
‘These tumults not unknown, has taught 
to rise? 
Meanwhile, thenarrow limits of my breast, 
Thee, scarce within their precincts can 
confine, 
And now, contracting inthy prison house, 
1 find thee not in thy accustom’d shrine. 
Now, 
dost thou burn 3, now, freezest like the 
snow, 
Which chills old Rhodope, whomecks the 
sight 5 
And now, O strange to tell! the fierce ex- 
treme 
Of vivid flame and piercing cold unite. 
Alas! why sorrowest thou my little heart ? 
Why throb’st with pain, or art convuls’d 
with joy? 
What eager hopes impel thee headlong on, 
Or fears thy every faculty employ? 
Full well I know, for busy thought recalls 
That awful day, that moment of my fate, 
Heediless of peril, when I dar’d to gaze, 
And learnt to mourn my venial fault too 
late, 
That moment, when kteneath thy arched 
brow, 
First sparkled from its torch the streaming 
fire, 
Whose never-ceasing flame consumes my 
soul, 
Fall wet I know, and what thou dost de- 
sire. 
Yes, yes, my beating heart, I understand, 
What these successive and quick throbs 
imply, 
That thou dost mourn to sharea lover's 
pangs, 
And at a mistress’ feet expiring lie. 
Silence thy grief, thy glorious martyrdom, 
Oli !. for a little to endure, essay. 
Forbear to give it utt’rance yet awhile, 
And my affections to the fair betray. 
But-must this harsh restraint for ever be, 
Must I in silence languish out my days ? 
Love e’er attends the daring and the bold, 
And ever, bright success, with glory’s rays. 
Yes, that I love thee, dear all cong’ring 
maid, 
Shall by this sad and faithful heart be told, 
That thine eye’s lustre is the guilty cause, 
Why I regardless of the risk am bold. 
That to ask pity ismild Nature’s Jaw, 
Vl) say ; but if with scorn you robe your 
brow, 
Qyr smile with mark’d disdain, O Hevens! 
then 
Ny love would, and I would not, avow. 
Original Poelry. 
305 
IL PRIMO AMORE. 
From the same. 
roo true it is! the amorous heat which 
once, 
Has lighted up a flame within the breast, 
Never bylime, which all thing selse destroys, 
Exttction knows nor sweet consoling reste 
Oh! *tis afire that unsuspecting sleeps, 
Insidious ’mid the ashes, and at will, 
Doth seem to jead its captive where it likes, 
Stifling all just resentment of the ill, 
Alas! should e’enthe veriest breeze arise, 
Or for a moment but<a zephyr sigh, 
Unnotic’d e’en amid the aspen shade, 
Behold “tis fame that speaks destruction 
nigh! 
An instant only, if I dare to gaze, 
O Heavens ! my beauteous enemy, on thee, 
Hex dear, her former flame my heart betrays, 
And sighs reveal, [am no longer’ free, 
Fast to my sorrows I again return, 
With love for her, again, her slave expires, 
‘And in his charmer’s beaming eyes adores 
The sacrifice his destiny requires. 
Nor is it, Nice, when thy beauty’s power, 
Present, takes sweet possession of my mind ~ 
Where’er my footsteps rove, sufficient food 
For this my honourable flame I find, 
There I remember, how my yeuthful heart 
First felt the tumults of delicious love ; 
On this dear spot, how ardent once you swore, 
Tender, and faithful to my hopes, to prove. 
One place, O Heavens! thy cruelty recals3 
inotber, of thy tenderness reminds 5 
Of sportive quarrel that, forgiveness this 
(With kisses bought), the dearremembraace 
finds. 
What shall I say? 
selves, 
Who, to ensnare me, use their every art, 
Still, with their glances, make me think 
on thee, 
And fix thy empire firmer o’er my hearts 
The very nymphs theme 
If Sylvia’s, Chloris’, tresses I admire, 
Which wander o’er their glossy necks at 
will, 
And truant lips confess; their dazzling charms 
Nice, my heart replies, is fairer scill, 
*O beauteous object of my heart’s desire ! 
Love first I knew, 
thee; 
The voice of Fate awakes no vain regrets, 
To sigh for thee! what brighter destiny ! 
——a 
and wish to know for 
ON A LADY WHOM HER ADMIRER HAD 
COMPARED ‘TO THE SUN. | 
(From the French.) 
How can I, said the fair one, resembie the 
Sun, 
Who am, 4a you see, but a woman? 
Why, Ill tell you, quoth Quiz, for as sure 
as a gUN, 
Tis Gecany you-are, both of you, common. 
C, 
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