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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE TEMPLE OF LOVE; A DREAM, by MARY LEAPOR Poet's Biography First Line: When lonely night composed the drowsy mind Last Line: And left her empire to the rising sun. | |||
When lonely night composed the drowsy mind, And hush'd the bosom of the weary hind, Pleas'd with plain nature, and with simple life, I read the scenes of Shore's deluded wife, Till my faint spirits sought the silent bed, And on its pillow dropt my aching head; Then fancy, ever to her Mira kind, Prepar'd her phantoms for the roving mind. Behold a fabric rising from the ground, To the soft timbrel and the cittern's sound; Corinthian pillars the vast building hold, Of polished silver, and Peruvian gold; In four broad arches spread the shining doors, The blazing roofs enlighten all the floors: Beneath a sparkling canopy, that shone With Persian jewels, like a morning sun, Wrapp'd in a robe of purest Tyrian dye, Cytherea's image met the ravish'd eye; Whose glowing features would in point beguile, So well the artist drew her mimic smile. Her shining eyes confess'd a sprightly joy, Upon her knees reclined her wanton boy; On the bright walls around her and above, Were drawn the statutes and the arts of love: These taught the silent language of the eye, The broken whisper, and amusing lie; The careless glance peculiar to the fair, And vows of lovers that dissolve in air; The graceful anger, and the rolling eyes, The practis'd blush, and counterfeit surprise, The language proper for pretending swains, And fine description for imagin'd pains; The friendly caution, and designing ease, And all the arts that ruin while they please. Now enter'd, follow'd by a splendid train, A blooming damsel and a wealthy swain; The gaudy youth in shining robes array'd; Behind him follow'd the unthinking maid: Youth in her cheek like opening roses sprung, Her careless tresses on her shoulders hung. Her smiles were cheerful as enlivening May; Her dress was careless, and her eyes were gay. Then to soft voices and melodious sound The board was spread, the sparkling glasses crown'd; The sprightly virgin in a moment shines In the gay product of the eastern mines; Then Pride comes in with patches for the fair, And spicy odours for her curling hair; Rude Riot, in a crimson vest array'd, With smooth-faced Flattery like a chambermaid; Soft Pomp and Pleasure at her elbow stand, And Folly shakes the rattles in her hand. But now her feeble structure seem'd to shake; Its bases trembled, and its pillars quake; Then rush'd Suspicion through the lofty gate, With heart-sick Loathing, led by ghastly Hate; And foaming Rage, to close the horrid band, With a drawn poniard in her trembling hand. Now like an earthquake shook the reeling frame, The lamps extinguish in a purple flame; One universal groan was heard, and then The cries of women, and the voice of men: Some roar out vengeance, some for mercy call, And shrieks and tumult fill the dreadful hall; At length the spectres vanish'd from my sight; Again the lamps resum'd a feeble light, But chang'd the place: no splendour there was shown, But gloomy walls, that mirth had never known; For the gay dome where pleasure us'd to dwell Appear'd an abbey, and a doleful cell; And here the sad, the ruin'd nymph was found, Her robe disorder'd and her locks unbound; While from her eyes the pearly drops of woe Wash'd her pale cheek, where roses us'd to blow: Her blue and trembling lips prepar'd to breathe The sighs that made her swelling bosom heave; Thus, stupid with her grief, she sat and prest Her lily hands across her pensive breast: A group of ghastly phantoms stood behind, Whose task it is to rack the guilty mind; Wide-mouth'd Reproach with visage rude and thin, And hissing Scandal, made a hideous din; Remorse, that darted from her deadly wings Invenom'd arrows and a thousand stings; Then with pale cheeks, and with a ghastly stare, Peep'd o'er her shoulder hollow-eyed Despair, Whose hand extended bore a bleeding heart, And Death behind her shook his threatening dart: These forms with horror fill'd my aching breast, And from my eyelids drove the balm of rest: I woke, and found old night her course had run, And left her empire to the rising sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADVICE TO SOPHRONIA by MARY LEAPOR AN EPISTLE TO A LADY by MARY LEAPOR AN ESSAY ON WOMAN by MARY LEAPOR MAN THE MONARCH by MARY LEAPOR MIRA TO OCTAVIA by MARY LEAPOR PROSERPINE'S RAGOUT by MARY LEAPOR SOTO. A CHARACTER by MARY LEAPOR STREPHON TO CELIA. A MODERN LOVE LETTER by MARY LEAPOR THE EPISTLE OF DEBORAH DOUGH by MARY LEAPOR |
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