Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DIALOGUE; GERON AND AMARILLIS, by CHARLES COTTON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DIALOGUE; GERON AND AMARILLIS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Stay, stay, fair nymph! Oh! Whither flies
Last Line: To crown the revolution.


GR.

STAY, stay, fair Nymph! oh! whither flies
The love, and wonder of all eyes?
Stay, and to see be now besought
The miracle thy charms have wrought;
Age turn'd to youth at Love's command,
And thine which nothing can withstand.

AM.

Begone, old Fool, why dost thou stay
My better thoughts, and cross my way?
Fly, fly, and quit my shady walk,
Nature will blush to see us talk,
Who all conjunction must disclaim
Betwixt her glory, and her shame.
Prefer thy suit to some one fit,
If not to grant, to pardon it.
Thou wrong'st my youth, by thy pretence,
And ev'ry pray'r is violence.
Love has on thee no wonder wrought,
Thou only art transform'd in thought,
Nor art thou quick'ned by my eyes,
But dream'st of metamorphoses.
Thou art the same old thing thou wast,
Without or sight, or touch, or taste,
Hearing, or smell, or any sense,
That beauty's grace should recompense.
And only hast a tongue to move
Contempt, and laughter, but no love.

GR.

Sweet, do not scorn me, though I seem
Old, and unfit for thy esteem;
Though hoary grown, and shrunk I am,
I feed within, perhaps, a flame;
As hot as can the youngest he,
That hourly sighs, and sues to thee.
As I am old, I should be wise,
And better know the thing I prize,
Than twenty younglings that do light
Their torches only at the sight.

AM.

I shun thee not for any part
Of what thou seem'st, but what thou art.
And that, thou dost a flame believe,
Is but enough to make thee live:
For if thy heart a flame should turn,
The bulk's so dry thy frame would burn.
I know thee old, and wish thee wise,
A younger man, and younger eyes;
On public faith thou courtest me,
For troth, I think thou canst not see.

GR.

Would I were deaf! I might not hear
This confirmation of my fear.
I doubted thou would'st scornful prove,
But look'd for no reproach for love.
I come perhaps with full delight
T' outbid thy wary appetite;
I can distinguish beauty too,
And taste the fruit for which I sue.
Know all Love's ends, and all his ways,
Women's reproaches, and delays,
And furnish'd am with able arms
To force the fortress of thy charms.
Scorn then, Ingrate, my love, and me;
Thy Spring will one day Winter be.
When ev'ry youthful shepherd swain,
As thou dost me, will thee disdain.

AM.

Old man, why should'st thou think me nice
Because I cannot hug thy ice?
Or tell me I shall Winter grow,
Because thy self art turn'd to snow?
No heats so wild in my blood play,
As needs th' excess of thy allay:
Nor can the judgment of thy dim,
Erroneous sight, raise my esteem;
And that stiff blade of thine may in
Attempts, but no performance, sin.
Go Dotard, and impartial look
Thy shadow in the frozen brook,
In that congeal'd mirror behold,
How shrunk thou art, wither'd, and old,
Thy leaf dropt off from thy bald crown,
And all an antic statue grown;
Then say if ought thou there canst see
Fit to present my youth and me.

GR.

I have (fair Nymph!) consider'd all
Thy youth may tax my age withal,
And on my self some lectures read:
But cannot find that I am dead:
For furrow'd though my skin appears,
Because old Time these threescore years,
Has plough'd it up, I'm fruitful still,
And want no power to my will.
And though my leaf be fall'n, each vein
Does a proportion'd heat retain.
One yielding glance from thy fair eyes
Would make my lusty sap to rise;
My wanton pulses strongly beat,
And glow with germinating heat.
Create me then, and call me thine,
We then will in embraces twine,
As sweet, and fruitful, as the pair
That in their April coupled were.

AM.

Stay, shepherd, stay, you run too fast,
This fury is too hot to last;
And by the crackling flame, I doubt,
The fire will be soon burnt out.
Leave me, and stumble to thy bed,
Where dream thou hast me; and thou'rt sped.

GR.

Fair, and inflexible, will Love,
Pray'rs, tears and suff'rings nothing move?
Thus then I leave thee and am gone,
To die for an ungrateful one.
When I am dead if thou repent,
And sigh over my monument,
By that sweet breath I shall respire,
And dead enjoy my life's desire.

AM.

Stay, stay, for now I better see
Th' unblemished truth that shines in thee.
Thou conquered hast, I am o'ercome,
Then lead me, Shepherd, captive home.
Cborus
Jolly Shepherds, quit your flocks
To the greedy wolf, or fox;
Though no shepherd them attend,
Hecate will all defend,
For another Cynthia's led
To a lusty old man's bed.
Tune your oaten pipes and play;
This is Hymen's Holy-day.
To one night a year's mirth bring,
Winter's marry'd to the Spring.
Therefore it becomes each one
To crown the revolution.





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