Mary Robinson (Мэри Робинсон)

To Cesario

CESARIO, thy Lyre’s dulcet measure,
So sweetly, so tenderly flows;
That could my sad soul taste of pleasure,
Thy music would soften its woes. 

But ah, gentle soother, where anguish
Takes root in the grief-stricken heart;
’Tis the triumph of sorrow to languish,
’Tis rapture to cherish the smart. 

The mind where pale Mis’ry sits brooding,
Repels the soft touch of repose;
Shrinks back when blest Reason intruding,
The balm of mild comfort bestows. 

There is luxury oft in declining,
What pity’s kind motives impart; 
And to bear hapless fate, unrepining,
Is the proudest delight of the heart. 

Still, still shall thy Lyre’s gentle measure,
In strains of pure melody flow;
While each heart beats with exquisite pleasure,
SAVE MINE­the doom’d VICTIM OF WOE.

1. Stanzas to Flora
2. The Deserted Cottage
3. Rinaldo to Laura Maria
4. Sonnet 9. Ye, Who in Alleys Green
5. Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter

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