CELADON to MIRA. Mary Leapor Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T127827 p. 413 K101776.000 Leapor, Mrs. (Mary), 1722-1746. Poems upon several occasions: By Mrs. Leapor of Brackley in Northamptonshire. London printed: and sold by J. Roberts 1748 pp. 136-142. 15,[5],282p. ; 8⁰.

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CELADON to MIRA . TO thee , O Mira , I these Lines commend , These from thy gentle and immortal Friend , Tho' not to thee my airy Form appears , Yet I've been oft a Witness to thy Tears , ( At Night when , lonely by the Taper's Flame , In a still Whisper thou hast breath'd my Name ) And in thy Eyes beheld the rising Woe ; ( Ah simple Sorrows when for me they flow ! ) Think not , O Mira , not in me to find A Friend like Vido , or like Rosalind , Or like Courtine to cheat thy dazzl'a Eye , And sooth thy Weakness with a well-bred Lye : These are ( as thou wilt by the Sequel find ) Below a Spirit of the blissful kind : And was thy Form , as wanton Helen gay , Or did thy Eyes outshine the Lamp of Day , These please not me — Bright Eyes in vain may roll , I read no Charms but in the purer Soul . By thy chang'd Features I too often find The wild Ideas of thy restless Mind ; All serious now abstracted from the Crew , No prudent Stoick more serene than you , Till in your Brain some gaudy Pictures spring , All gay and careless , then you laugh and sing : These vanish like a painted Cloud — and now Pale Discontent o'er-shades thy mournful Brow : You form dark Visions and at Phantoms start , These Woes proceed from an ill-govern'd Heart , From a too thoughtless or too roving Mind ; For these are Strangers to a Soul resign'd . Canst thou presume thy little Bark may steer From Griefs black Eddy and the Gulphs of Fear ? Or canst thou hope to scape the gloomy Land , Where Disappointments crowd the rocky Strand ? Not so — nor let thy Vanity pretend To hope for more than ever blest thy Friend ; In Life I shone conspicuous o'er the rest , While the pure Beams malignant Eyes opprest ; Sound Judgment , Learning , Wisdom , too was mine , And piercing Wit superior far to thine ; Yet gaping Rage stood ready to devour , And Dulness rain'd on me a leaden Shower : Now stung with Scoffs , and now with Flatt'ry tir'd , Defam'd , applauded , envy'd , and admir'd : This Fate was mine — to hope canst thou presume A milder Passage and more easy Doom ? Deluded Girl ! let not a Thought so vain Elate thy Spirits , nor ascend thy Brain . But hear , O Mira , nor too late be wise , From painted Trifles turn thy longing Eyes ; Ask not for what will make thy Pray'r offend , But ask Content , a Parent and a Friend ; Ask Bread and Peace , 'tis all that Nature craves , This Kings acknowledge , when they find their Graves . Say , why thy Features lose their healthful Dye , And the Tears tremble in the languid Eye ? The mighty Conflict I with pity see , When thy rude Passions struggle to be free , And rack thy Breast — the incoherent Stage , Where grave and comick jar like Youth and Age ; Now Death appears all horrible and grim : But the next Moment none so fair as him , And now you sigh — Ah , let me calmly die : Then shrinking , trembling from the Grave you fly , Such jarring Tumults in your Bosom roll ; ( Ah , what so various as a Woman's Soul ! ) But thou , beware , and if thy Fate has join'd A sickly Body to a roving Mind ; Be calm nor mourn at the Supreme Decree , Nor think the Mandate shall be chang'd for thee , But meet with Patience what thou canst not flee . Wou'dst thou repine to see thy Form decay , When Spio's Eye-lids are forbid the Day ! Might'st thou with us unbodied Spirits fly , From Sphere to Sphere and trace the boundless Sky ? Then wou'd the Lives of little Mortals shew , Like empty Bubbles rais'd of Morning Dew : All seem as Trifles , whether we behold A Monarch banish'd , or a Sparrow sold ; A thoughtless Insect trampled in the Mire , Or a proud Beauty in her Bloom expire . More noble Scenes enraptur'd Spirits view , But the grand Prospect is too large for you : A closer Bound best suits thy narrow Mind , A few Examples of thy fading kind . Hast thou forgot the soft Iphenia's Name , Whose smiling Face not Spleen itself could blame ; Scarce nineteen Years her dawning Beauties knew , E'er the young Roses bid her Cheeks adieu ; Yet bless'd with all , cou'd please a Woman's Pride : In this gay Bloom the bright Iphenia dy'd ; Her Sire lifts to Heav'n his mournful Eyes , And her sad Brother fills the Air with Cries : Her Brother Clodius , who to Grief resign'd To fruitless Passion all his manly Mind . What simple Sorrow to the dead you pay , Who soon must follow the same dusky Way . For e'er the Transport of his Grief was o'er , Fate gave the Sign and Clodius was no more . Still Pero liv'd a yet surviving Son , A little Space and Pero's Race was done : Death's icy Hand his youthful Limbs invades , And bids him mingle with his kindred Shades . So quickly Pero and Narcissa fell , Scarce looking round them e'er they bid farewel : Yet dang'rous 'tis to wander here too long ; These went more willing as they fell more young ; But Laura's Name demands thy flowing Tears , Whose Doubts increasing with her lengthen'd Years , Serv'd not to clear but cloud the dusky Way , And gave new Terrors to her final Day : The dreadful Moment wou'd have past as well , At sixteen Years had weeping Laura fell . Let this , O Mira , chear thy drooping Mind , To bear the Sentence past on all Mankind : I bore the same , whose Life was more desir'd , More lov'd , more known , and justly more admir'd : Yet this grand Fear is wove with Nature's Laws ; Is sometimes right , and sometimes has no Cause : Repent and mend — these Vapours then will fly , And the Clouds brighten to a purer Sky ; Still look to Heav'n and its Laws attend , And next the Lines of thy aerial Friend .