Fantastic, wanton God, what dost thou mean
To break my Rest? make me grow pale and lean,
And offer Sighs, and yet not know to who,
Or what's more strange, to sigh at once for two.
Tyrant! Thou know'st I was thy Slave before,
And humbly did thy Deity Adore:
I liked, nay, doted on my
And Sung his Praise, and thine in every place.
My Soul he singly swayed, alone possessed
My Love, and reigned sole Monarch of my Breast:
Was not all this enough? but thou fond Boy,
Wanton with too much Pow'r, (thy Self t'employ)
Must in my Breast (oh! let it ne'er be told)
Kindle new Flame, yet not put out the Old?
now, (though I oppose in vain)
, but doth with him Reign:
And I, though both I love, dare neither choose,
Lest gaining one, I should the other lose;
Both Fires are equal great, Flame equal high,
Yet 'spite of this, a difference I descry;
One wild and raging, furiously Devours
My Peace, my Rest, and all my pleasant Hours;
The other mild and gentle, like those Fires
That melt Perfumes, creates as sweet desires:
That doth with Violence to Passion tend,
This climbs no higher than the name of Friend.
, you shall ever be
My only Love, and singly Reign o'er me:
My Passion you shall Monopolize,
You've such resistless Magic in your Eyes.
Though Clovis' Merits yours do far transcend,
Yet I'm your Lover, and but Clovis' Friend;
Blindly I love you, yet too plain discover,
He'll prove a better Friend than you a Lover.
Accept sweet Clovis of that little part
I can present of my unruly Heart.
Could I command my Love, or know a way
My Stubborn, lawless Passion to sway,
My Love I would not Parcel, nor bestow
A little Share, where more than all I owe:
I would tear
From my fond Breast, and place your Merit there:
But 'tis not in my Pow'r, some hidden Fate
Compels me love Him that I strive to Hate.
That Love we to our Prince or Parents pay,
I'll bear to you, and love an humble way:
I'll pay you Veneration for your Love,
And your Admirer, not your Mistress prove.
Oh! be contented with the Sacred Name
Of Friend, and an inviolable Flame
For you I will preserve, and the first place
Of all the few I with that Title grace:
And yet this Friendship doth so fast improve,
I dread, lest it in time should grow to Love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem