# Poems upon Several Occasions/40

MIX, mix the Philters—Quick—she flies, she flies, Deaf to my Call, regardless of my Cries. Are Vows so vain? Cou’d Oaths so feeble prove? Ah with what Ease she breaks those Chains of Love? Whom Love with all his Arts had bound in vain, Let Charms compel, and Magick Rites regain. Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur’d Wanderer. Queen of the Night, bright Empress of the Stars, The Friend of Love, assist a Lover’s Cares: And thou, infernal Hecatè, be nigh, At whose Approach fierce Wolves affrighted fly, Dark Tombs disclose their Dead, and hollow Cries Echo from under Ground; Arise, arise. Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur’d Wanderer. As crackling in the Fire this Lawrel lyes, So struggling in Love’s Flame her Lover dies: It bursts, and in a Blaze of Light expires; So may she burn, but with more lasting Fires Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur’d Wanderer.
As the Wax melts that to the Flame I hold, So may she melt, but never more grow cold; Pliant and warm may still her Heart remain, Soft for the Print, but ne'er turn hard again. Tough Ir'n will yield, and stubborn Marble run, And hardest Hearts by Love are melted down. Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer. As with impetuous Motion whirl'd apace, This magick Wheel still moves, yet keeps its place, Ever returning: So may she come back, And never more th' appointed Round forsake. Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer. Diana, hail! all hail! Most welcome Thou, To whom th' infernal King and Judges bow; O thou who canst the Pow'rs of Hell perswade, Now try thy Charms upon a faithless Maid. Hark! the Dogs bark! She comes, the Goddess comes: Sound, sound aloud, and beat our brazen Drums. Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer. How calm's the Sky! how undisturb'd the Deep! Nature is hush'd, the very Tempests sleep, The drowzy Winds breathe gently thro' the Trees, And silent on the Beach repose the Seas: Love only wakes: The Storm that tears my Breast For ever rages, and distracts my Rest:
O Love! Relentless Love! Tyrant accurst! In Desarts bred, by cruel Tygers nurst! Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer. This Ribban that once bound her lovely Waste, O that my Arms might gird her there as fast! Smiling she gave it, and I priz'd it more, Than the rich Zone th' Idalian Goddess wore. This Ribban, this lov'd Relick of the Fair, So kiss'd and so preserv'd——Thus, thus I tear, O Love! why dost thou thus delight to rend My Soul with Pain? Ah why torment thy Friend! Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer. Thrice have I sacrific'd, and prostrate thrice Ador'd: Assist, ye Pow'rs, the Sacrifice. Who-e'er he is, whom now the Fair beguiles With guilty Glances, and with perjur'd Smiles, Malignant Vapours blast his impious Head, Ye Lightnings scorch him, Thunder strike him dead, Horror of Conscience all his Slumbers break, Distract his Rest, as Love keeps me awake; If marry'd, may his Wife a Helen be, And curst and scorn'd, like Menelaüs he. Begin, begin, the mystick Spells prepare, Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer. These pow'rful Drops thrice on the Threshold pour, And bathe with this enchanted Juice her Door,
That Door where no Admittance now is found, But where my Soul is ever hov'ring round. Haste, and obey: And binding be the Spell. Here ends my Charm: O Love succeed it well: By force of Magick stop the flying Fair, Bring Myra back, my perjur'd Wanderer.
Thou'rt now alone; and painful is Restraint: Ease thy prest Heart, and give thy Sorrows Vent, Whence sprang, and how began these Griefs, declare, How much thy Love, how cruel thy Despair. Ye Moon and Stars, by whose auspicious Light I haunt these Groves, and waste the tedious Night, Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. Too late for Hope, for my Repose too soon, I saw, and lov'd: Her Heart engag'd, was gone: A happier Man possess'd whom I adore; O I shou'd ne'er have seen, or seen before. Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. What shall I do? Shall I in Silence bear, Destroy my self, or kill the Ravisher? Die, wretched Lover, die: But ah beware, Hurt not the Man who is belov'd by her, Wait for a better Hour, and trust thy Fate: Thou seek'st her Love, beget not then her Hate.
Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. My Life consuming with eternal Grief, From Herbs and Spells I seek a vain Relief; To ev'ry wise Magician I repair, In vain! for still I love, and I despair. Circè, Medéa, and the Sibyl Books, Contain not half th' Enchantment of her Looks. Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. As melted Gold preserves its Weight the same, So burnt my Love, nor wasted in the Flame. And now unable to support the Strife, A glimmering Hope recalls departing Life; My Rival dying, I no longer grieve, Since I may ask, and she with Honour give. Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. Witness ye Hours, with what unweary'd Care, From Place to Place I still pursu'd the Fair. Nor was Occasion to reveal my Flame Slow to my Succour, for it swiftly came: It came, it came, that moment of Delight, O Gods! And how I trembled at her Sight! Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart; Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. Dismay'd and motionless, confus'd, amaz'd, Trembling I stood, and terrify'd I gaz'd;
My falt'ring Tongue in vain for Utt'rance try'd, Faint was my Voice, my Thoughts abortive dy'd, Or in weak Sounds and broken Accents came Imperfect, as Discourses in a Dream. Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. Soon she divin'd what this Confusion meant, And guess'd with Ease the Cause of my Complaint: My Tongue emboldning as her Looks were mild, At length I told my Griefs——And still she smil'd. O Siren, Siren! fair Deluder, say Why would you tempt to trust, and then betray? So faithless now, why gave you Hopes before? Alas! you shou'd have been less kind, or more. Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart. Secure of Innocence, I seek to know From whence this Change, and my Misfortunes grow; Rumour is loud, and every voice proclaims Her violated Faith, and conscious Flames. Can this be true? Ah flattering Mischief, speak; Can you make Vows, and in a Moment break? And can the Space so very narrow be Betwixt a Woman's Oath, and Perjury? O Jealousie! All other Ills at first My Love essay'd, but thou are sure the worst! Tell, for you know the Burthen of my Heart, Its killing Anguish, and its secret Smart.
Ungrateful Myra! urge me thus no more, Nor think me tame, that once so long I bore: Tho' now by Philters I'd avert thy Change, The Philters failing, Poison shall revenge: Already stands prepar'd the deadly Draught, Of an Assyrian was the Secret bought: For whom that Draught? Ah feeble Rage and vain! With how secure a Brow she mocks my Pain? Thy Heart, fond Lover, does thy Threats belie, Canst thou hurt her, for whom thou yet wou'dst die? Nor durst she thus thy just Resentment brave, But that she knows how much thy Soul's her Slave. But see! Aurora rising with the Sun Dissolves my Charm, and frees th' enchanted Moon, My Spells no longer bind at Sight of Day, And young Endymion calls his Love away. Love's the Reward of all, on Earth, in Heav'n, And for a Plague, to me alone was giv'n. Evils we cannot shun we must endure, Death and a broken Heart's a ready Cure. Cynthia farewell, go rest thy weary Light, I must for ever wake———We'll meet again at Night.