SPARE, generous victor, spare the slave | |
| Who did unequal war pursue, | |
| That more than triumph he might have | |
| In being overcome by you. | |
| |
| In the dispute whate’er I said, | 5 |
| My heart was by my tongue belied, | |
| And in my looks you might have read | |
| How much I argued on your side. | |
| |
| You, far from danger as from fear, | |
| Might have sustained an open fight: | 10 |
| For seldom your opinions err; | |
| Your eyes are always in the right. | |
| |
| Why, fair one, would you not reply | |
| On Reason’s force with Beauty’s joined? | |
| Could I their prevalence deny, | 15 |
| I must at once be deaf and blind. | |
| |
| Alas! not hoping to subdue, | |
| I only to the fight aspired; | |
| To keep the beauteous foe in view | |
| Was all the glory I desired. | 20 |
| |
| But she, howe’er of victory sure, | |
| Contemns the wreath too long delayed, | |
| And, armed with more immediate pow’r, | |
| Calls cruel silence to her aid. | |
| |
| Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight; | 25 |
| She drops her arms, to gain the field; | |
| Secures her conquest by her flight, | |
| And triumphs, when she seems to yield. | |
| |
| So when the Parthian turned his steed | |
| And from the hostile camp withdrew, | 30 |
| With cruel skill the backward reed | |
| He sent; and as he fled, he slew. | |
| |
