The Disappointment

1
ONE Day the Amarous Lisander,
By an impatient Passion swayed,
Surprised fair Cloris, that loved Maid,
Who could defend herself no longer;
All things did with his Love conspire,
The gilded Planet of the Day,
In his gay Chariot, drawn by Fire,
Was now descending to the Sea,
And left no Light to guide the World,
But what from Cloris brighter Eyes was hurled.

2
In alone Thicket, made for Love,
Silent as yielding Maids Consent,
She with a charming Languishment
Permits his force, yet gently strove?
Her Hands his Bosom softly meet,
But not to put him back designed,
Rather to draw him on inclined,
Whilst he lay trembling at her feet;
Resistance this to late to shew,
She wants the power to say Ah!what do you do?

3
Her bright Eyes sweat, and yet Severe,
Where Love and Shame confusedly strive,
Fresh Vigor to Lisander give:
And whispering softly in his Ear,
She Cried — Cease — cease — your vain desire,
Or I'll call out — What would you do ?
My dearer Honour, even to you,
I cannot — must not give — retire,
Or take that Life whose chiefest part
I gave you with the Conquest of my Heart.

4
But he as much unused to fear,
As he was capable of Love,
The blessed Minutes to improve,
Kisses her Lips, her Neck, her Hair!
Each touch her new Desires alarms!
His burning trembling Hand he prest
Upon her melting Snowy Breast,
While she lay panting in his Arms!
All her unguarded Beauties lie
The Spoils and Trophies of the Enemy.

5
And now, without Respect or Fear,
He seeks the Objects of his Vows;
His Love no Modesty allows:
By swift degrees advancing where
His daring Hand that Alter seized,
Where Gods of Love do Sacrifice;
That awful Throne, that Paradise,
Where Rage is tamed, and Anger pleased;
That Living Fountain, from whose Trills
The melted Soul in liquid Drops distils.

6
Her balmy Lips encountering his,
Their Bodies as their Souls are joined,
Where both in Transports were confined,
Extend themselves upon the Moss.
Cloris half dead and breathless lay,
Her Eyes appeared like humid Light,
Such as divides the Day and Night;
Or falling Stars, whose Fires decay;
And now no signs of Life she shows,
But what in short-breath-sighs returns and goes.

7
He saw how at her length she lay,
He saw her rising Bosom bare,
Her loose thin Robes, through which appear
A Shape designed for Love and Play;
Abandoned by her Pride and Shame,
She do's her softest Sweets dispense,
Offering her Virgin-Innocence
A Victim to Loves Sacred Flame ;
Whilst the or'e ravished Shepherd lies,
Unable to perform the Sacrifice.

8
Ready to taste a Thousand Joys,
Thee too transported hapless Swain,
Found the vast Pleasure turned to Pain:
Pleasure, which too much Love destroys!
The willing Garments by he laid,
And Heav'n all open to his view;
Mad to possess, himself he threw
On the defenceless lovely Maid.
But oh! what envious Gods conspire
To snatch his Power, yet leave him the Desire!

9
Natures support, without whose Aid
She can no humane Being give,
It self now wants the Art to live,
Faintness it slackened Nerves invade:               In vain the' enraged Youth assaid
To call his fleeting Vigour back,
No Motion 'twill from Motion take,
Excess of Love his Love betrayed;
In vain he Toils, in vain Commands,
This Insensible fell weeping in his Hands.

10
In this so Amorous cruel strife,
Where Love and Fate were too severe,
The poor Lisander in Despair,
Renounced his Reason with his Life.
Now all the Brisk and Active Fire
That should the Nobler Part inflame,
Unactive Frigid, Dull became,
And left no Spark for new Desire;
Not all her Naked Charms could move,
Or calm that Rage that had debauched his Love.

11
Cloris returning from the Trance
Which Love and soft Desire had bred,
Her timorous Hand she gently laid,
Or guided by Design or Chance,
Upon that Fabulous Priapus,
That Potent God (as Poets feign.)
But never did young Shepherdess
(Gathering of Fern upon the Plain)
More nimbly draw her Fingers back,
Finding beneath the Verdant Leaves a Snake.

12
Then Cloris her fair Hand withdrew,
Finding that God of her Desires
Disarmed of all his powerful Fires,
And cold as Flowers bathed in the Morning-dew.
Who can the Nymphs Confusion guess?
The Blood forsook the kinder place,
And strewed with Blushes all her Face,
Which both Disdain and Shame express;
And from Lisanders Arms she fled,
Leaving him fainting on the gloomy Bed.

13
Like Lightning through the Grove she hies,
Or Daphne from the Delphick God;
No Print upon the Grassie Road
She leaves, to instruct pursuing Eyes.
The Wind that wanton'd in her Hair,
And with her ruffled Garments plaid,
Discovered in the flying Maid
All that the Gods are made of Fai.
So Venus, when her Love was Slain,
With fear and haste flew over the fatal Plain.

14
The Nymphs resentments, none but I
Can well imagine, and Condole;
But none can guess Lisander's Soul,
But those who swayed his Destiny:
His silent Griefs, swell up to Storms,
And not one God, his Fury spares,
He Curst his Birth, his Fate, his Stars,
But more the Shepherdesses Charms;
Whose soft bewitching influence,
Had Dammed him to the Hell of Impotence.