Song Of A Scholar And His Mistress By John Dryden
The Lovers enter at opposite doors, each held by a keeper.
Look, look I see—I see my love appear!
’Tis he—’Tis he alone;
For, like him, there is none:
’Tis the dear, dear man, ’tis thee, dear.
Hark! the winds war;
The foamy waves roar;
I see a ship afar:
Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore:
But what’s that I view,
So radiant of hue,
St. Hermo, St Hermo, that sits upon the sails?
Ah! No, no, no.
St. Hermo never, never shone so bright;’
‘Tis Phillis, only Phillis, can shoot so fair a light;
‘Tis Phillis, ’tis Phillis, that saves the ship alone,
For all the winds are hush’d, and the storm is overblown.
Let me go, let me run, let me fly to his arms.
If all the fates combine,
And all the furies join,
I’ll force my way to Phillis, and break through the charm.
Shall I marry the man I love?
And shall I conclude my pains?
Now bless’d be the powers above,
I feel the blood bound in my veins;
With a lively leap it began to move,
And the vapours leave my brains.
Body join’d to body, and heart join’d to heart,
To make sure of the cure,
Go call the man in black, to mumble o’er his part.
But suppose he should stay—
At worst if he delay,
‘Tis a work must be done,
We’ll borrow but a day,
And the better, the sooner begun.