Liber Amoris, or The New Pygmalion | Page 5

smallest share of thy tenderness would make me blest;
but couldst thou ever love me as thou didst him, I should feel like a
God! My face would change to a different expression: my whole form
would undergo alteration. I was getting well, I was growing young in
the sweet proofs of your friendship: you see how I droop and wither
under your displeasure! Thou art divine, my love, and canst make me
either more or less than mortal. Indeed I am thy creature, thy slave--I
only wish to live for your sake--I would gladly die for you--
S. That would give me no pleasure. But indeed you greatly overrate my
power.
H. Your power over me is that of sovereign grace and beauty. When I
am near thee, nothing can harm me. Thou art an angel of light,
shadowing me with thy softness. But when I let go thy hand, I stagger
on a precipice: out of thy sight the world is dark to me and comfortless.
There is no breathing out of this house: the air of Italy will stifle me.
Go with me and lighten it. I can know no pleasure away from thee--

"But I will come again, my love, An' it were ten thousand mile!"

THE MESSAGE

S. Mrs. E---- has called for the book, Sir.
H. Oh! it is there. Let her wait a minute or two. I see this is a busy-day
with you. How beautiful your arms look in those short sleeves!
S. I do not like to wear them.
H. Then that is because you are merciful, and would spare frail mortals
who might die with gazing.
S. I have no power to kill.
H. You have, you have--Your charms are irresistible as your will is
inexorable. I wish I could see you always thus. But I would have no
one else see you so. I am jealous of all eyes but my own. I should
almost like you to wear a veil, and to be muffled up from head to foot;
but even if you were, and not a glimpse of you could be seen, it would
be to no purpose--you would only have to move, and you would be
admired as the most graceful creature in the world. You smile--Well, if
you were to be won by fine speeches--
S. You could supply them!
H. It is however no laughing matter with me; thy beauty kills me daily,
and I shall think of nothing but thy charms, till the last word trembles
on my tongue, and that will be thy name, my love--the name of my
Infelice! You will live by that name, you rogue, fifty years after you are
dead. Don't you thank me for that?
S. I have no such ambition, Sir. But Mrs. E---- is waiting.
H. She is not in love, like me. You look so handsome to-day, I cannot
let you go. You have got a colour.
S. But you say I look best when I am pale.
H. When you are pale, I think so; but when you have a colour, I then
think you still more beautiful. It is you that I admire; and whatever you
are, I like best. I like you as Miss L----, I should like you still more as
Mrs. ----. I once thought you were half inclined to be a prude, and I
admired you as a "pensive nun, devout and pure." I now think you are
more than half a coquet, and I like you for your roguery. The truth is, I
am in love with you, my angel; and whatever you are, is to me the
perfection of thy sex. I care not what thou art, while thou art still

thyself. Smile but so, and turn my heart to what shape you please!
S. I am afraid, Sir, Mrs. E---- will think you have forgotten her.
H. I had, my charmer. But go, and make her a sweet apology, all
graceful as thou art. One kiss! Ah! ought I not to think myself the
happiest of men?

THE FLAGEOLET

H. Where have you been, my love?
S. I have been down to see my aunt, Sir.
H. And I hope she has been giving you good advice.
S. I did not go to ask her opinion about any thing.
H. And yet you seem anxious and agitated. You appear pale and
dejected, as if your refusal of me had touched your own breast with pity.
Cruel girl! you look at this moment heavenly-soft, saint-like, or
resemble some graceful marble statue, in the moon's pale ray! Sadness
only heightens the elegance of your features. How can I escape from
you, when every new occasion, even your cruelty and scorn, brings out
some new charm.