The RESOLUTION: An ELEGY

Too much my heart of beauty's pow'r hath known: Too long to love hath reason left the throne; Too long my better genius mourn'd his chain, And youth's unvalued hours consum'd in vain. My wishes, lull'd with soft, inglorious dreams, Forgot the patriot's and the sage's themes; Thro' many a painted vale and fairy grove, Thro' all th' enchanted paradise of love, Misled by sickly hope's delusive flame; Averse to action, and renouncing fame.

At length the visionary scenes decay: At length my eyes confess the new-born day, Whose faithful beams detect the dang'rous road In which my heedless feet securely trod; And strip the phantoms of their lying charms, Which lur'd my soul from wisdom's peaceful arms. Now for smooth streams, and banks bespread with flow'rs, For myrtle walks, and amaranthine bow'rs; Lo, barren heaths appear, and pathless woods, And rocks incumbent o'er unfathom'd floods. For happy smiles, for openness of heart, Looks bright with love, and passion scorning art; Lo, sullen spite, and cunning lust of gain, And cruel pride, and insolent disdain. For graceful ease, lo, affectation walks; And dull half-sense for wit and wisdom talks.

O youth, whoe'er dost beauty's paths attend, Paths which in love's perfidious mansion end, O learn from me what pomp surrounds his throne: For I have known the place, too well have known. There burning fury heav'n and earth defies; And dumb despair in icy fetters lies: And black suspicion bends his gloomy brow, The unblest image of himself to view; And blind belief, with all a lover's flame, Sinks in those arms which clothe his head with shame, There wan dejection, falt'ring as he goes, In shades and silence vainly seeks repose; Musing thro' pathless wilds consumes the day: Then, lost in darkness, weeps the hours away. There the gay train of luxury advance, To Lydian sounds adapting Circe's dance. On every head the vernal garland glows: In every hand the purple goblet flows: The Syren views them with exulting eyes; And laughs at bashful virtue, as she flies.

Are these delights which I should wish to gain? Is this th' elysium of a sober brain? To watch for happiness in female smiles; Bear all her scorn, be caught with all her wiles: Her mercy, with a coward's skill, to crave; Bless her hard bonds, and boast to be her slave: To feel for trifles a distracting train Of fears and wishes, equally in vain: This hour to tremble, and the next to glow— Can pride, can human sense descend so low; When virtue, at an easier price, displays The sacred wreath of honourable praise; When wisdom utters her divine decree, To laugh at serious folly, and be free?

I bid adieu then to these woful scenes: I bid adieu to all the sex of queens. Adieu to every suff'ring, simple foul, Who lets a woman's will his peace controul. There laugh ye witty, and rebuke ye grave— I scorn to boast that I have been a slave. I bid the whining brotherhood, begone— Joy to my heart! my wishes are my own. Farewel the female heav'n, the female hell: To thee, great God of Love, a glad farewel. Thy wild mis-rule at length has freed my heart; And reason, passion force thee to depart. —But wherefore dost thou linger on thy way? Why vainly search for some pretence to stay, When crouds of vassals court thy pleasing yoke; And countless victims bow them to the stroke? Lo, round thy shrine a thousand youths advance, Warm with the gentle ardours of romance: Each vows t' assert his nymph with feats of arms, Till hostile champions kneeling own her charms. Ten thousand girls, with rosy chaplets crown'd, To groves and streams thy tender triumph sound: Each bids the stream in murmurs tell her flame; Each calls the grove to sigh her shepherd's name. But if thy pride such obvious honour scorn, If nobler off'rings must thy shrine adorn, To yonder rev'rend maid direct thy wing; To that rich harvest of the fiftieth spring. Her shalt thou bind in thy delightful chains, And thrill with gentle pangs her wither'd veins: Thy wishful warmth her frosty cheek shall dye, And dreams of rapture melt her maudlin eye.

Be these thy glories. But no more presume That my rebellious heart will yield thee room. I know thy puny force, thy simple wiles; I break triumphant thro' thy slender toils. I see thy dying lamp's last languid glow, Thy arrows blunted, and unbrac'd thy bow: I feel diviner fires my breast inflame, For active science and ingenuous fame; Resume the paths my earlier choice began, And lose with pride the lover in the man.