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Yourself dismantling, you will shroud me o'er, 106
And grieve to find your bosom's warmth no more
Have power my vital spirits to restore.
If this sad fancy discompose thy breast,
Think 'twas but fancy, and resume thy rest.
Invoke the watery powers (thy prayers are charms)
To assuage the storm, and yield me to thy arms.
But when to your dear mansion I arrive,
Loose every wind, and let the tempest drive.
'Twill give my stay pretence, nor can you chide 115
While thunder pleads so loudly on my side.
Till then permit this letter to supply
The author's place, and in thy bosom lie.
Lodged in thy breast, my passion 'twill impart,
And whisper its soft message to thy heart.

HERO'S ANSWER.

WITH Such delight I read your letter o'er, Your presence only could have given me more. Excuse my passion, if it soar above

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Your thought; no man can judge of woman's love.
With business you, or pleasures, may sustain
The pangs of absence, and divert the pain.

The hills, the vales, the woods, and streams are

stored

With game, and profit with delight afford.

5

While gins for beasts, and snares for fowl you set,
You smile, and your own amorous chains forget. 10
Ten thousand helps besides affect your cure,
While woman's sole relief is to endure.
Or with my confidant I hold discourse,
Debating what should interrupt your course:
Or viewing from aloft the troubled tide,
Mix in the fray, and with the tempest chide.
Or in the storm's least interval suspect
Your stay, and almost charge you with neglect.
I seek your footsteps on the sands in vain,
The sands no more confess thee than the main; 20

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I watch the arriving barks, and never fail
To inquire of you, and write by every sail.

Still as the setting sun restores the night,
(The night to me more welcome than the light,)
I fix my flaming torch to guide my love,
Nor shines there any friendlier star above.
Then with my work or book the time I cheat,
And mid the task Leander's name repeat.
My wedded thoughts no other theme pursue,
I talk a hundred things--but all of you.

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"What think'st thou, nurse, does my Leander come?
Or waits he till his parents sleep at home?
For he is forced to steal his passage there,
As nightly we by stealth admit him here.

Think'st thou that now he strips him in the bay, 35
Or is already plunged, and on his way?"

While she, poor soul, with tedious watching spent,
Makes half replies, and nodding gives assent.
Yet cannot I the smallest pause allow,

But cry,
"He is launch'd forth for certain now."
Then every moment through the window peep;
With greedy eyes examine all the deep;

And whisper to the floods a tender prayer
In your behalf, as if I spied you there.
Or to beguile my griefs my ear incline,
And take each gentle breeze's voice for thine :
At last, surprised with sleep, in dreams I gain
That sight for which I waked so long in vain.
To shroud you then my shoulders I divest,
And clasp you shivering to my warmer breast.
At present I confess the seas are rough,

But were last night composed, and calm enough;
Why did you then my longing hopes delay ?
Why disappoint me with a total stay?
Is it your fear that makes my wishes vain?
When rougher, you have oft engaged the main;
If it be fear, that friendly fear retain;
Nor visit me till you securely may;

Your danger would afflict me more than stay.

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Dread every gust that blows; but oh! my mind 60
Misgives, lest you prove various as that wind.
If e'er you change, your error secret keep,
And in bless'd ignorance permit me sleep.
Not that I am inform'd you are changed at all,
But absent lovers fear whate'er may fall.
Detain'd by floods, your stay I will not blame;
But less I dread the floods than some new flame.
Be hush'd, ye winds, ye raging billows, sleep,
And yield my love safe passage through the deep.
Bless'd sign, the taper sparkles while I pray,
A guest i' the flame! Leander's on his way!
Our household altars yield propitious signs,
From which my nurse your swift approach divines.
The crickets too of your arrival warn,
And say our number shall increase ere morn.
Come, gentle youth, and with thy presence make
The glad conjecture true; the day will break,
And mar my hopes; prevent the hastening morn;
To me and love's forsaken scenes return.
Dost thou suspect the time will be too short?
Or want'st thou strength the adventure to support?
If this detain thee, oh! no longer stay,
I'll plunge and meet thee in the flood halfway.
Thus in the verdant waves our flames shall meet,
And danger make the interview more sweet.
How art thou nightly snatch'd from me away,
To dare the flood, when sailors keep the bay?
Yet be advised, thou conqueror of the tide,
Nor in thy youthful strength so much confide.
Think not thine arms can more than oars prevail; 90
Nor dare to swim, when pilots fear to sail.
With much regret I cautiously persuade,
And almost wish my counsel disobey'd.
Yet when to the rough main my eyes I turn,
Methinks I never can enough forewarn;
Nor does my last night's vision less affright,
Though expiated with many a sacred rite;

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A sporting dolphin, while the flood retired,
Lay hid i' the ooze, and on the beach expired.
Whate'er the dream portend, as yet reside
In the safe port, nor trust the inconstant tide.
The storm (too fierce to last) will soon decay,
Then with redoubled speed redeem your stay.
Till then these sheets some pleasure may impart; 104
They bring what most you prize, your Hero's heart,

BY THOMAS FLATMAN.

LAODAMIA TO PROTESILAUS

PROTESILAUS, lying wind-bound at Aulis, with the Grecian fleet, designed for the Trojan war, his wife Laodamia sends the following epistle to him.

HEALTH to the gentle man of war, and may What Laodamia sends the gods convey. The wind that still in Aulis holds my dear, Why was it not so cross to keep him here? Let the wind raise a hurricane at sea, Were he but safe and warm ashore with me. Ten thousand kisses I had more to give him, Ten thousand cautions, and soft words to leave him; In haste he left me, summon'd by the wind, The wind to barbarous mariners only kind. The seaman's pleasure is the lover's pain, Protesilaus is from my bosom ta'en!

As from my faltering tongue half speeches fell,

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Scarce could I speak that wounding word, farewell.

A merry gale (at sea they call it so)

Fill'd every sail with joy, my breast with wo;
While I could see thee, full of eager pain,
My eyes on thy loved image fix'd remain.
When thee no more, but thy spread sails I view
I look'd, and look'd, till I had lost them too;
But when nor thee, nor them I could descry,
And all was sea that came within my eye,
OVID.-II-T

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.

They say, (for I have quite forgot,) they say
I straight grew pale, and fainted quite away;
Compassionate Iphiclus, and the good old man, 25
My mother too to my assistance ran;

In haste, cold water on my face they threw,
And brought me to myself with much ado;

They meant it well, to me it seem'd not so,
Much kinder had they been to let me go;
My anguish with my soul together came,
And in my heart burst out the former flame :
Since which, my uncomb'd locks unheeded flow,
Undress'd, forlorn, I care not how I go;
Inspired with wine, thus Bacchus' frolic rout
Stagger'd of old, and straggled all about.
"Put on, put on," the happy ladies say,
"Thy royal robes, fair Laodamia."

Alas! before Troy's walls my dear does lie,
What pleasure can I take in Tyrian die?
Shall curls adorn my head, a helmet thine?
I in bright tissues, thou in armour shine?
Rather with studied negligence I'll be
As ill, if not disguised worse than thee.

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Oh Paris! raised by ruins! mayst thou prove 45 As fatal in thy war as in thy love!

Oh that the Grecian dame had been less fair,
Or thou less lovely hadst appear'd to her!
Oh Menelaus! timely cease to strive;

With how much blood wilt thou thy loss retrieve?

From me, ye gods, avert your heavy doom,

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And bring my dear, laden with laurels, home.

But my heart fails me when I think of war;
The sad reflections cost me many a tear:
I tremble when I hear the very name
Of every place where thou shalt fight for fame
Besides, the advent'rous gallant haply knew
The safest arts his villany to pursue;
In noble dress he did her heart surprise;
With gold he dazzled her unguarded eyes;

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