Sylvæ, or, The second part of Poetical miscellanies

LIB. II. ELEGY XVI. He invites his Mistress into the Countrey.

I'Me now at—where my Eyes can view Their old Delights, but what I want in you: Here purling Streams cut thro' my pleasing Bowers, Adorn my Banks, and raise my drooping Flowers: Here Trees with bending Fruit in order stand, Invite my Eye, and tempt my greedy Hand; But half the Pleasure of Enjoyment's gone, Since I must pluck them single and alone: Why could not Nature's Kindness first contrive That faithful Lovers should like Spirits live, Mixt in one point, and yet dividedly Enjoying an united Liberty? But since we must thro' distant Regions go, Why was not the same way design'd for two?

One single Care determin'd still for both, And the kind Virgin joyn'd the loving Youth? Then should I think it pleasant way to go O'er Alpine Frost, and trace the Hills of Snow; Then should I dare to view the horrid Moors, And walk the Desarts of the Lybian Shoars; Hear Scylla bark, and see Charybdis rave, Suck in, and vomit out the threatning Wave: Fearless thro' all I'de steer my feeble Barge, Secure and safe with the Celestial Charge: But now though here my grateful Fields afford Choice Fruits to cheer their melancholly Lord; Though here obedient Streams the Gardner leads, In narrow Channels thro' my flowry Beds. Tho' Poplars rise, and spread a shady Grove, Where I might lye, my little Life improve, And spend my Minutes 'twixt a Muse and Love.

Yet these contribute little to my Ease, For without you they lose the Power to please: I seem to walk o'er Fields of naked Sand, Or tread an antick Maze in Fairy-Land. Where frightful Spectres and pale Shades appear, And hollow Groans invade my troubled Ear: Where ev'ry Breeze, that thro' my Arbour flies, First sadly murmurs, and then turns to Sighs: The Vines love Elms, what Elms from Vines remove? Then why should I be parted from my Love? And yet by me you once devoutly swore, By your own Eyes, those Stars that I adore; That all my Bus'ness you would make your own, And never suffer me to be alone; But faithless Woman naturally deceives, Their frequent Oaths are like the falling Leaves, Which when a Storm has from the Branches tore, Are tost by every Blast, and seen no more:

Yet if you will be true, your Vows retrieve, Be kind, and I can easily forgive; Prepare your Coach, to me direct your Course, Drive fiercely on, and lash the lazy Horse; And while you ride I will prolong the Day, And try the power of Verse to smooth your Way: Sink down ye Mountains, sink ye lofty Hills, Ye Valleys be obedient to her Wheels, Ye Streams be dry, ye hindring Woods remove, 'Tis Love that drives, and all must yield to Love.