DELIA
,
AN
ELEGY
.
—
tecum
ut
longae
sociarem
gaudia
vitae
,
Inque
tuo
caderet
nostra
senecta
sinu
.
TIBUL
.
YES
,
DELIA
loves
!
My
fondest
vows
are
blest
;
Farewel
the
memory
of
her
past
disdain
;
One
kind
relenting
glance
has
heal'd
my
breast
,
And
balanc'd
in
a
moment
years
of
pain
.
O'er
her
soft
cheek
consenting
blushes
move
,
And
with
kind
stealth
her
secret
soul
betray
;
Blushes
,
which
usher
in
the
morn
of
love
,
Sure
as
the
red'ning
east
foretels
the
day
.
Her
tender
smiles
shall
pay
me
with
delight
For
many
a
bitter
pang
of
jealous
fear
;
For
many
an
anxious
day
,
and
sleepless
night
,
For
many
a
stifled
sigh
,
and
silent
tear
.
DELIA
shall
come
,
and
bless
my
lone
retreat
;
She
does
not
scorn
the
shepherd's
lowly
life
;
She
will
not
blush
to
leave
the
splendid
seat
,
And
own
the
title
of
a
poor
man's
wife
.
The
simple
knot
shall
bind
her
gather'd
hair
,
The
russet
garment
clasp
her
lovely
breast
:
DELIA
shall
mix
amongst
the
rural
fair
,
By
charms
alone
distinguish'd
from
the
rest
.
And
meek
Simplicity
,
neglected
maid
,
Shall
bid
my
fair
in
native
graces
shine
:
She
,
only
she
,
shall
lend
her
modest
aid
,
Chaste
,
sober
priestess
,
at
sweet
beauty's
shrine
!
How
sweet
to
muse
by
murmuring
springs
reclin'd
;
Or
loitering
careless
in
the
shady
grove
,
Indulge
the
gentlest
feelings
of
the
mind
,
And
pity
those
who
live
to
aught
but
love
!
When
DELIA's
hand
unlocks
her
shining
hair
,
And
o'er
her
shoulder
spreads
the
flowing
gold
,
Base
were
the
man
who
one
bright
tress
would
spare
For
all
the
ore
of
India's
coarser
mold
.
By
her
dear
side
with
what
content
I'd
toil
,
Patient
of
any
labour
in
her
sight
;
Guide
the
slow
plough
,
or
turn
the
stubborn
soil
,
Till
the
last
,
ling'ring
beam
of
doubtful
light
.
But
softer
tasks
divide
my
DELIA's
hours
;
To
watch
the
firstlings
at
their
harmless
play
;
With
welcome
shade
to
screen
the
languid
flowers
,
That
sicken
in
the
summer's
parching
ray
.
Oft
will
she
stoop
amidst
her
evening
walk
,
With
tender
hand
each
bruised
plant
to
rear
;
To
bind
the
drooping
lily's
broken
stalk
,
And
nurse
the
blossoms
of
the
infant
year
.
When
beating
rains
forbid
our
feet
to
roam
,
We'll
shelter'd
sit
,
and
turn
the
storied
page
;
There
see
what
passions
shake
the
lofty
dome
With
mad
ambition
or
ungovern'd
rage
:
What
headlong
ruin
oft
involves
the
great
;
What
conscious
terrors
guilty
bosoms
prove
;
What
strange
and
sudden
turns
of
adverse
fate
Tear
the
sad
virgin
from
her
plighted
love
.
DELIA
shall
read
,
and
drop
a
gentle
tear
;
Then
cast
her
eyes
around
the
low-roof'd
cot
,
And
own
the
fates
have
dealt
more
kindly
here
,
That
blest
with
only
love
our
little
lot
.
For
love
has
sworn
(
I
heard
the
awful
vow
)
The
wav'ring
heart
shall
never
be
his
care
,
That
stoops
at
any
baser
shrine
to
bow
:
And
what
he
cannot
rule
,
he
scorns
to
share
.
My
heart
in
DELIA
is
so
fully
blest
,
It
has
not
room
to
lodge
another
joy
;
My
peace
all
leans
upon
that
gentle
breast
,
And
only
there
misfortune
can
annoy
.
Our
silent
hours
shall
steal
unmark'd
away
In
one
long
tender
calm
of
rural
peace
;
And
measure
many
a
fair
unblemish'd
day
Of
chearful
leisure
and
poetic
ease
.
The
proud
unfeeling
world
their
lot
shall
scorn
Who
'midst
inglorious
shades
can
poorly
dwell
:
Yet
if
some
youth
,
for
gentler
passions
born
,
Shall
chance
to
wander
near
our
lowly
cell
,
His
feeling
breast
with
purer
flames
shall
glow
;
And
leaving
pomp
,
and
state
,
and
cares
behind
,
Shall
own
the
world
has
little
to
bestow
Where
two
fond
hearts
in
equal
love
are
join'd
.