Celia and I the other Day <br />Walk'd o'er the Sand-Hills to the Sea: <br />The setting Sun adorn'd the Coast, <br />His Beams entire, his Fierceness lost: <br />And, on the Surface of the Deep, <br />The Winds lay only not asleep: <br />The Nymph did like the Scene appear, <br />Serenely pleasant, calmly fair: <br />Soft fell her words, as flew the Air. <br />With secret Joy I heard Her say, <br />That She would never miss one Day <br />A Walk so fine, a Sight so gay. <br /> <br />But, oh the Change! the Winds grow high: <br />Impending Tempests charge the Sky: <br />The Lightning flies: the Thunder roars: <br />And big Waves lash the frighten'd Shoars. <br />Struck with the Horror of the Sight, <br />She turns her Head, and wings her Flight; <br />And trembling vows, She'll ne'er again <br />Approach the Shoar, or view the Main. <br /> <br />Once more at least look back, said I; <br />Thy self in That large Glass descry: <br />When Thou art in good Humour drest; <br />When gentle Reason rules thy Breast; <br />The Sun upon the calmest Sea <br />Appears not half so bright as Thee: <br />'Tis then, that with Delight I rove <br />Upon the boundless Depth of Love: <br />I bless my Chain: I hand my Oar; <br />Nor think on all I left on Shoar. <br /> <br />But when vain Doubt, and groundless Fear <br />Do That Dear Foolish Bosom tear; <br />When the big Lip, and wat'ry Eye <br />Tell Me, the rising Storm is nigh: <br />'Tis then, Thou art yon' angry Main, <br />Deform'd by Winds, and dash'd by Rain; <br />And the poor Sailor that must try <br />Its Fury, labours less than I. <br /> <br />Shipwreck'd, in vain to Land I make; <br />While Love and Fate still drive Me back: <br />Forc'd to doat on Thee thy own Way, <br />I chide Thee first, and then obey: <br />Wretched when from Thee, vex'd when nigh, <br />I with Thee, or without Thee, die.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lady-s-looking-glass/
