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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE: CELIA, CLEON by THOMAS CAREW

Poet Analysis

First Line: AS CELIA RESTED IN THE SHADE
Last Line: THE NYMPH FLED FAST AWAY.
Subject(s): COURTSHIP;
As Celia rested in the shade
With Cleon by her side,
The swain thus courted the young maid,
And thus the nymph repli'd.

@3Cleon.@1 Sweet! let thy captive fetters wear
Made of thine arms and hands;
Till such as thraldom scorn, or fear,
Envy those happy bands.

@3Celia.@1 Then thus my willing arms I wind
About thee, and am so
Thy pris'ner, for myself I bind,
Until I let thee go.

@3Cleon.@1 Happy that slave whom the fair foe
Ties in so soft a chain.
@3Celia.@1 Far happier I, but that I know
Thou wilt break loose again.

@3Cleon.@1 By thy immortal beauties, never!
@3Celia.@1 Frail as thy love's thine oath.
@3Cleon.@1 Though beauty fade, my love lasts ever.
@3Celia.@1 Time will destroy them both.

@3Cleon.@1 I dote not on thy snow-white skin.
@3Celia.@1 What then? @3Cleon.@1 Thy purer mind.
@3Celia.@1 It lov'd too soon. @3Cleon.@1 Thou hadst not bin
So fair, if not so kind.

@3Celia.@1 Oh strange vain fancy! @3Cleon.@1 But yet true.
@3Celia.@1 Prove it! @3Cleon.@1 Then make a braid
Of those loose flames that circle you,
My suns, and yet your shade.

@3Celia.@1 'Tis done. @3Cl.@1 Now give it me. @3Cel.@1 Thus thou
Shalt thine own error find;
If these were beauties, I am now
Less fair, because more kind.

@3Cleon.@1 You shall confess you err: that hair,
Shall it not change the hue,
Or leave the golden mountain bare?
@3Celia.@1 Ay me! it is too true.

@3Cleon.@1 But this small wreath shall ever stay
In its first native prime,
And smiling when the rest decay,
The triumphs sing of time.

@3Celia.@1 Then let me cut from thy fair grove
One branch, and let that be
An emblem of eternal love,
For such is mine to thee.

@3Cleon.@1 Thus are we both redeem'd from time.
I by thy grace. @3Celia.@1 And I
Shall live in thy immortal rhyme,
Until the Muses die.

@3Cleon.@1 By heaven! @3Celia.@1 Swear not! if I must weep,
Jove shall not smile at me;
This kiss, my heart, and thy faith keep.
@3Cleon.@1 This breathes my soul to thee.

Then forth the thicket Thyrsis rush'd,
Where he saw all their play;
The swain stood still, and smil'd, and blush'd:
The nymph fled fast away.



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