Poem by Alexander Pope

On a Fan of the Author's Design

Come gentle Air! th' AEolian shepherd said,
While Procris panted in the secret shade:
Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia cries,
While at her feet her swain expiring lies.
Lo the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray,
Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play!
In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found,
Nor could that fabled dart more surely wound:
Both gifts destructive to the givers prove;
Alike both lovers fall by those they love.
Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives,
At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives:
She views the story with attentive eyes,
And pities Procris, while her lover dies. 

1. Epistle to Miss Blount, On Her Leaving the Town, After the Coronation
2. On the Countess of Burlington Cutting Paper
3. Chorus of Youths and Virgins
4. Prayer of St. Francis Xavier
5. On Seeing the Ladies Crux-Easton Walk in the Woods by the Grotto

Print

2160 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version