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I
O FAIREST Flower, no sooner blown but blasted, | |
| Soft silken Primrose fading timelessly, | |
| Summer’s chief honour, if thou hadst outlasted | |
| Bleak Winter’s force that made thy blossom dry; | |
| For he, being amorous on that lovely dye | 5 |
| That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss | |
| But killed, alas! and then bewailed his fatal bliss. | |
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II
For since grim Aquilo, his charioter, | |
| By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got, | |
| He thought it touched his Deity full near, | 10 |
| If likewise he some fair one wedded not, | |
| Thereby to wipe away the infámous blot | |
| Of long uncoupled bed and childless eld, | |
| Which, ’mongst the wanton gods, a foul reproach was held. | |
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III
So, mounting up in icy-pearlèd car, | 15 |
| Through middle empire of the freezing air | |
| He wandered long, till thee he spied from far; | |
| There ended was his quest, there ceased his care; | |
| Down he descended from his snow-soft chair, | |
| But, all un’wares, with his cold-kind embrace, | 20 |
| Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding-place. | |
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IV
Yet thou art not inglorious in thy fate; | |
| For so Apollo, with unweeting hand, | |
| Whilom did slay his dearly-lovèd mate, | |
| Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas’ strand, | 25 |
| Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land; | |
| But then transformed him to a purple flower: | |
| Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power! | |
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V
Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, | |
| Or that thy corse corrupts in earth’s dark womb, | 30 |
| Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed | |
| Hid from the world in a low-delvèd tomb; | |
| Could Heaven, for pity, thee so strictly doom? | |
| Oh no! for something in thy face did shine | |
| Above mortality, that showed thou wast divine. | 35 |
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VI
Resolve me, then, O Soul most surely blest | |
| (If so be it that thou these plaints dost hear) | |
| Tell me, bright Spirit, where’er thou hoverest, | |
| Whether above that high first-moving sphere, | |
| Or in the Elysian fields (if such there were), | 40 |
| Oh, say me true if thou wert mortal wight, | |
| And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight. | |
| |
VII
Wert thou some Star, which from the ruined roof | |
| Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall; | |
| Which careful Jove in nature’s true behoof | 45 |
| Took up, and in fit place did reinstall? | |
| Or did of late Earth’s sons besiege the wall | |
| Of sheeny Heaven, and thou some Goddess fled | |
| Amongst us here below to hide thy nectared head? | |
| |
VIII
Or wert thou that just Maid who once before | 50 |
| Forsook the hated earth, oh! tell me sooth, | |
| And camest again to visit us once more? | |
| Or wert thou [Mercy], that sweet smiling Youth? | |
| Or that crowned Matron, sage white-robèd Truth? | |
| Or any other of that heavenly brood | 55 |
| Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good? | |
| |
IX
Or wert thou of the golden-wingèd host, | |
| Who, having clad thyself in human weed, | |
| To earth from thy prefixèd seat didst post, | |
| And after short abode fly back with speed, | 60 |
| As if to shew what creatures Heaven doth breed; | |
| Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire | |
| To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heaven aspire? | |
| |
X
But oh! why didst thou not stay here below | |
| To bless us with thy heaven-loved innocence, | 65 |
| To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe, | |
| To turn swift-rushing black perdition hence, | |
| Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence, | |
| To stand ’twixt us and our deservèd smart? | |
| But thou canst best perform that office where thou art. | 70 |
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XI
Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child, | |
| Her false-imagined loss cease to lament, | |
| And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild; | |
| Think what a present thou to God hast sent, | |
| And render him with patience what he lent: | 75 |
| This if thou do, he will an offspring give | |
| That till the world’s last end shall make thy name to live. | |
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