A Solitary Lament.

This desert dell and unfrequented grove1
Is hushed to hear the soft-breathed sighs of
In still chill silence, save the gentle breeze3
Of Zephyr whispers wailing through the trees,4
My sorrows here securely may I weep,5
If lonely rocks can lovers’ secrets keep.6
Whence shall I tell the tale of Cynthia’s scorn ?7
Whence shall I wake the strain of love forlorn ?8
I who was Cupid’s favourite of late9
Am branded outcast from that favoured state.10
What crime of mine has merited your spleen ?11
Think you your lover has inconstant been ?12
So may I yet regain your favour lost,13
No rival fair one has my threshold crossed.14
Though deep the debt my pain doth owe to thee,15
I would not have such anger come to me16
That I with wrath should pay back your disdain,17
And trace of tears your peerless eyelids stain.18
What, though no blush nor paleness show my
Nor changing cheeks my glowing passion prove,20
Witness for me, if trees bear love’s record,21
Ye beech and pine—dear to Arcadia’s lord22
How oft my songs resound beneath your shade,23
And Cynthia’s name is carved throughout the
Ah, Cynthia ! through thy scorn what griefs I feel,25
But only to the silent doors reveal :26
Meekly I’ve bent to bear thy haughty sway,27
Nor dared complain, or ever say thee nay.28
And my reward is this cold chilly ground,29
And rural rest upon this sloping mound,30
And lonely days of lost neglected love31
To pour unto the warblers of the grove.32
But “ Cynthia” still the woods around proclaim,33
And desert rocks re-echo to thy name.34

† Translated from Propertius, Bk. i., Eleg. xviii.