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22 views31 pages

Hoodoo in The Psalms S Taren Download

The document primarily features links to various ebooks related to Hoodoo, including titles like 'Hoodoo In The Psalms' and 'Hoodoo Herbal Folk Recipes'. It also contains excerpts of poetry and prose, discussing themes of love and despair. The content is a mix of promotional material for ebooks and literary excerpts, with a focus on Hoodoo practices and folklore.

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I might have read my fortune long ago,
When, seeking my success in love to know,
I tried the infallible prophetic way,
A poppy-leaf upon my palm to lay.
I struck, and yet no lucky crack did follow;
Yet I struck hard, and yet the leaf lay
hollow;
And, which was worse, if any worse could
prove,
The withering leaf foreshowed your
withering love.
Yet farther,—ah, how far a lover dares!
My last recourse I had to sieve and sheers,
And told the witch Agreo my disease:
(Agreo, that in harvest used to lease;
But, harvest done, to chare-work did aspire;
Meat, drink, and two-pence was her daily
hire;)
To work she went, her charms she muttered
o'er,}
And yet the resty sieve wagged ne'er the
more; }
I wept for woe, the testy beldame swore, }
And, foaming with her God, foretold my
fate,
That I was doomed to love, and you to
hate.
A milk-white goat for you I did provide;
Two milk-white kids run frisking by her side,
For which the nut-brown lass, Erithacis,
Full often offered many a savoury kiss.
Hers they shall be, since you refuse the
price;
What madman would o'erstand his market
twice!
My right eye itches, some good-luck is
near,}
Perhaps my Amaryllis may appear; }
I'll set up such a note as she shall hear. }
What nymph but my melodious voice would
move?
She must be flint, if she refuse my love.
Hippomenes, who ran with noble strife }
To win his lady, or to lose his life, }
(What shift some men will make to get a
wife?)}
Threw down a golden apple in her way;
For all her haste, she could not choose but
stay:
Renown said, Run; the glittering bribe cried,
Hold;
The man might have been hanged, but for
his gold.
Yet some suppose 'twas love, (some few
indeed!)
That stopt the fatal fury of her speed:
She saw, she sighed; her nimble feet refuse
Their wonted speed, and she took pains to
lose.
A prophet some, and some a poet cry,[61]
(No matter which, so neither of them lie,)
From steepy Othry's top to Pylus drove
His herd, and for his pains enjoyed his love.
If such another wager should be laid,
I'll find the man, if you can find the maid.
Why name I men, when love extended finds
His power on high, and in celestial minds?
Venus the shepherd's homely habit took,
And managed something else besides the
crook;
Nay, when Adonis died, was heard to roar,
And never from her heart forgave the boar.
How blest was fair Endymion with his
moon,
Who sleeps on Latmos' top from night to
noon!
What Jason from Medea's love possest,
You shall not hear, but know 'tis like the
rest.
My aching head can scarce support the
pain;
This cursed love will surely turn my brain:
Feel how it shoots, and yet you take no
pity;
Nay, then, 'tis time to end my doleful ditty.
A clammy sweat does o'er my temples
creep,
My heavy eyes are urged with iron sleep;
I lay me down to gasp my latest breath,
The wolves will get a breakfast by my
death;
Yet scarce enough their hunger to supply,
For love has made me carrion ere I die.

FOOTNOTES:
[59] This appeared in the First Miscellany.
[60] To swerve, as the word is here used, means to draw one's
self up a tree by clinging round it with the legs and arms. It
occurs in the old ballad of Sir Andrew Barton, where he sends one
of his men aloft:

Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree,


He swarved it with might and main.
Reliques of Ancient Poetry, Vol. II. p. 192
[61] Melampus, the son of Amythaon, was a prophet and
physician. Tibullus cites him in the character of an augur:

——compertum est veracibus ut mihi signis,


Queis Amythaonius nequeat certare Melampus.

As a physician, he discovered the use of hellebore; thence called


Melampodium.
THE

EPITHALAMIUM

OF

HELEN AND MENELAUS.

FROM THE

EIGHTEENTH IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS.


[62]

Twelve Spartan virgins, noble, young, and


fair,
With violet wreaths adorned their flowing
hair;
And to the pompous palace did resort,
Where Menelaus kept his royal court.
There, hand in hand, a comely choir they
led, }
To sing a blessing to his nuptial bed, }
With curious needles wrought, and painted
flowers bespread.}
Jove's beauteous daughter now his bride
must be,
And Jove himself was less a God than he;
For this their artful hands instruct the lute
to sound,
Their feet assist their hands, and justly beat
the ground.
This was their song:—Why, happy
bridegroom, why,
Ere yet the stars are kindled in the sky,
Ere twilight shades, or evening dews are
shed,
Why dost thou steal so soon away to bed?
Has Somnus brushed thy eye-lids with his
rod,}
Or do thy legs refuse to bear their load, }
With flowing bowls of a more generous
god? }
If gentle slumber on thy temples creep,
(But, naughty man, thou dost not mean to
sleep,)
Betake thee to thy bed, thou drowzy drone,
Sleep by thyself, and leave thy bride alone:
Go, leave her with her maiden mates to
play
At sports more harmless till the break of
day;
Give us this evening; thou hast morn and
night,
And all the year before thee, for delight.
O happy youth! to thee, among the crowd
Of rival princes, Cupid sneezed aloud;
And every lucky omen sent before,
To meet thee landing on the Spartan shore.
Of all our heroes, thou canst boast alone,
That Jove, whene'er he thunders, calls thee
son;
Betwixt two sheets thou shalt enjoy her
bare,}
With whom no Grecian virgin can compare;
}
So soft, so sweet, so balmy, and so fair. }
A boy, like thee, would make a kingly line;
But oh, a girl like her must be divine.
Her equals we in years, but not in face,
Twelve score viragos of the Spartan race,
While naked to Eurotas' banks we bend,
And there in manly exercise contend,
When she appears, are all eclipsed and lost,
And hide the beauties that we made our
boast.
So, when the night and winter disappear,
The purple morning, rising with the year,
Salutes the spring, as her celestial eyes
Adorn the world, and brighten all the skies;
So beauteous Helen shines among the rest,
Tall, slender, straight, with all the Graces
blest.
As pines the mountains, or as fields the
corn,
Or as Thessalian steeds the race adorn;
So rosy-coloured Helen is the pride
Of Lacedemon, and of Greece beside.
Like her no nymph can willing osiers bend }
In basket-works, which painted streaks
commend;}
With Pallas in the loom she may contend. }
But none, ah! none can animate the lyre,
And the mute strings with vocal souls
inspire;
Whether the learned Minerva be her theme,
Or chaste Diana bathing in the stream,
None can record their heavenly praise so
well
As Helen, in whose eyes ten thousand
Cupids dwell.
O fair, O graceful! yet with maids enrolled,
But whom to-morrow's sun a matron shall
behold!
Yet ere to-morrow's sun shall show his
head,}
The dewy paths of meadows we will tread,
}
For crowns and chaplets to adorn thy head.
}
Where all shall weep, and wish for thy
return,
As bleating lambs their absent mother
mourn.
Our noblest maids shall to thy name
bequeath
The boughs of Lotos, formed into a wreath.
This monument, thy maiden beauties due,
High on a plane-tree shall be hung to view;
On the smooth rind the passenger shall see
Thy name engraved, and worship Helen's
tree;
Balm, from a silver-box distilled around,
Shall all bedew the roots, and scent the
sacred ground.
The balm, 'tis true, can aged plants
prolong,
But Helen's name will keep it ever young.
Hail bride, hail bridegroom, son-in-law to
Jove!
With fruitful joys Latona bless your love!
Let Venus furnish you with full desires,
Add vigour to your wills, and fuel to your
fires!
Almighty Jove augment your wealthy store,
Give much to you, and to his grandsons
more!
From generous loins a generous race will
spring,
Each girl, like her, a queen; each boy, like
you, a king.
Now sleep, if sleep you can; but while you
rest,
Sleep close, with folded arms, and breast to
breast.
Rise in the morn; but oh! before you rise,
Forget not to perform your morning
sacrifice.
We will be with you ere the crowing cock
Salutes the light, and struts before his
feathered flock.
Hymen, oh Hymen, to thy triumphs run,
And view the mighty spoils thou hast in
battle won!

FOOTNOTES:
[62] This and the three following Idylliums were first published in
the Second Miscellany.
THE

DESPAIRING LOVER.

FROM THE

TWENTY-THIRD IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS.


With inauspicious love, a wretched swain
Pursued the fairest nymph of all the plain;
Fairest indeed, but prouder far than fair,
She plunged him hopeless in a deep
despair:
Her heavenly form too haughtily she prized,
His person hated, and his gifts despised;
Nor knew the force of Cupid's cruel darts,
Nor feared his awful power on human
hearts;
But either from her hopeless lover fled,
Or with disdainful glances shot him dead.
No kiss, no look, to cheer the drooping boy,
No word she spoke, she scorned even to
deny;
But, as a hunted panther casts about
Her glaring eyes, and pricks her listening
ears to scout;
So she, to shun his toils, her cares
employed,
And fiercely in her savage freedom joyed.
Her mouth she writhed, her forehead
taught to frown,
Her eyes to sparkle fires to love unknown;
Her sallow cheeks her envious mind did
shew,
And every feature spoke aloud the
curstness of a shrew.
Yet could not he his obvious fate escape;
His love still dressed her in a pleasing
shape;
And every sullen frown, and bitter scorn,
But fanned the fuel that too fast did burn.
Long time, unequal to his mighty pain,
He strove to curb it, but he strove in vain;
At last his woes broke out, and begged
relief
With tears, the dumb petitioners of grief;
With tears so tender, as adorned his love,
And any heart, but only hers, would move.
Trembling before her bolted doors he stood,
And there poured out the unprofitable
flood;
Staring his eyes, and hagard was his look;
Then, kissing first the threshold, thus he
spoke.
Ah nymph, more cruel than of human
race!
Thy tygress heart belies thy angel face;
Too well thou show'st thy pedigree from
stone,
Thy grandame's was the first by Pyrrha
thrown;
Unworthy thou to be so long desired;
But so my love, and so my fate required.
I beg not now (for 'tis in vain) to live;
But take this gift, the last that I can give.
This friendly cord shall soon decide the
strife
Betwixt my lingering love and loathsome
life:
This moment puts an end to all my pain;
I shall no more despair, nor thou disdain.
Farewell, ungrateful and unkind! I go
Condemned by thee to those sad shades
below.
I go the extremest remedy to prove,
To drink oblivion, and to drench my love:
There happily to lose my long desires;
But ah! what draught so deep to quench
my fires?
Farewell, ye never-opening gates, ye
stones,
And threshold guilty of my midnight moans!
What I have suffered here ye know too
well;
What I shall do, the Gods and I can tell.
The rose is fragrant, but it fades in time;
The violet sweet, but quickly past the
prime;
White lilies hang their heads, and soon
decay,
And whiter snow in minutes melts away:
Such is your blooming youth, and withering
so;
The time will come, it will, when you shall
know
The rage of love; your haughty heart shall
burn
In flames like mine, and meet a like return.
Obdurate as you are, oh! hear at least
My dying prayers, and grant my last
request!—
When first you ope your doors, and,
passing by,
The sad ill-omened object meets your eye,
Think it not lost a moment if you stay;
The breathless wretch, so made by you,
survey;
Some cruel pleasure will from thence arise,
To view the mighty ravage of your eyes.
I wish (but oh! my wish is vain, I fear)
The kind oblation of a falling tear.
Then loose the knot, and take me from the
place,
And spread your mantle o'er my grisly face;
Upon my livid lips bestow a kiss,—
O envy not the dead, they feel not bliss!
Nor fear your kisses can restore my breath;
Even you are not more pitiless than death.
Then for my corpse a homely grave
provide,
Which love and me from public scorn may
hide;
Thrice call upon my name, thrice beat your
breast,
And hail me thrice to everlasting rest:
Last, let my tomb this sad inscription bear;
—}
"A wretch, whom love has killed, lies buried
here; }
"O passengers, Aminta's eyes beware." }
Thus having said, and furious with his
love,
He heaved, with more than human force, to
move
A weighty stone, (the labour of a team,)
And, raised from thence, he reached the
neighbouring beam;
Around its bulk a sliding knot he throws,
And fitted to his neck the fatal noose;
Then, spurning backward, took a swing, till
death
Crept up, and stopt the passage of his
breath.
The bounce burst ope the door; the
scornful fair
Relentless looked, and saw him beat his
quivering feet in air;
Nor wept his fate, nor cast a pitying eye,
Nor took him down, but brushed regardless
by;
And, as she past, her chance or fate was
such,
Her garments touched the dead, polluted
by the touch.
Next to the dance, thence to the bath did
move;
The bath was sacred to the God of Love;
Whose injured image, with a wrathful eye,
Stood threatning from a pedestal on high.
Nodding a while, and watchful of his blow,
He fell, and, falling, crushed the ungrateful
nymph below:
Her gushing blood the pavement all
besmeared;
And this her last expiring voice was heard;

"Lovers, farewell, revenge has reached my
scorn;
"Thus warned, be wise, and love for love
return."
DAPHNIS AND CHLORIS.
FROM THE
TWENTY SEVENTH IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS.

DAPHNIS.

The shepherd Paris bore the Spartan bride


By force away, and then by force enjoyed;
But I by free consent can boast a bliss,
A fairer Helen, and a sweeter kiss.

CHLORIS.

Kisses are empty joys, and soon are o'er.

DAPHNIS.

A kiss betwixt the lips is something more.

CHLORIS.

I wipe my mouth, and where's your kissing


then?

DAPHNIS.

I swear you wipe it to be kissed agen.


CHLORIS.
Go, tend your herd, and kiss your cows at
home;
I am a maid, and in my beauty's bloom.

DAPHNIS.

'Tis well remembered; do not waste your


time,
But wisely use it ere you pass your prime.

CHLORIS.

Blown roses hold their sweetness to the


last,
And raisins keep their luscious native taste.

DAPHNIS.

The sun's too hot; those olive shades are


near;
I fain would whisper something in your ear.

CHLORIS.

'Tis honest talking where we may be


seen; }
God knows what secret mischief you may
mean;}
I doubt you'll play the wag, and kiss again.}

DAPHNIS.

At least beneath yon elm you need not


fear;
My pipe's in tune, if you're disposed to hear.

CHLORIS.
Play by yourself, I dare not venture
thither;
You, and your naughty pipe, go hang
together.

DAPHNIS.

Coy nymph, beware, lest Venus you offend.

CHLORIS.

I shall have chaste Diana still to friend.


DAPHNIS.

You have a soul, and Cupid has a dart.

CHLORIS.

Diana will defend, or heal my heart.


Nay, fie, what mean you in this open place?
Unhand me, or I swear I'll scratch your
face.
Let go for shame; you make me mad for
spite;
My mouth's my own; and, if you kiss, I'll
bite.

DAPHNIS.

Away with your dissembling female tricks;


What, would you 'scape the fate of all your
sex?

CHLORIS.

I swear, I'll keep my maidenhead till


death,
And die as pure as queen Elizabeth.

DAPHNIS.

Nay, mum for that; but let me lay thee


down;
Better with me, than with some nauseous
clown.

CHLORIS.

I'd have you know, if I were so inclined, }


I have been woo'd by many a wealthy hind;
}
But never found a husband to my mind. }

DAPHNIS.

But they are absent all; and I am here.}


}

CHLORIS. }
}
The matrimonial yoke is hard to bear, }
And marriage is a woeful word to hear. }

DAPHNIS.

A scarecrow, set to frighten fools away;


Marriage has joys, and you shall have
assay.

CHLORIS.

Sour sauce is often mixed with our


delight;
You kick by day more than you kiss by
night.

DAPHNIS.

Sham stories all; but say the worst you


can,
A very wife fears neither God nor man.

CHLORIS.

But child-birth is, they say, a deadly pain;


It costs at least a month to knit again.

DAPHNIS.

Diana cures the wounds Lucina made;


Your goddess is a midwife by her trade.

CHLORIS.

But I shall spoil my beauty, if I bear.

DAPHNIS.

But Mam and Dad are pretty names to hear.

CHLORIS.

But there's a civil question used of late;


Where lies my jointure, where your own
estate?

DAPHNIS.

My flocks, my fields, my woods, my


pastures take,
With settlement as good as law can make.
CHLORIS.

Swear then you will not leave me on the


common,
But marry me, and make an honest woman.

DAPHNIS.

I swear by Pan, though he wears horns


you'll say,
Cudgelled and kicked, I'll not be forced
away.

CHLORIS.

I bargain for a wedding-bed at least,


A house, and handsome lodging for a
guest.

DAPHNIS.

A house well furnished shall be thine to


keep;
And, for a flock-bed, I can sheer my sheep.

CHLORIS.

What tale shall I to my old father tell?

DAPHNIS.

'Twill make him chuckle thou'rt bestowed so


well.

CHLORIS.

But, after all, in troth I am to blame


To be so loving, ere I know your name;
A pleasant sounding name's a pretty thing.

DAPHNIS.

Faith, mine's a very pretty name to sing.


They call me Daphnis; Lycidas my sire;
Both sound as well as woman can desire.
Nomæa bore me; farmers in degree;
He a good husband, a good housewife she.
CHLORIS.

Your kindred is not much amiss, 'tis true;


Yet I am somewhat better born than you.

DAPHNIS.

I know your father, and his family;


And, without boasting, am as good as he,
Menalcas; and no master goes before.

CHLORIS.

Hang both our pedigrees! not one word


more;
But if you love me, let me see your living,
Your house, and home; for seeing is
believing.

DAPHNIS.

See first yon cypress grove, a shade from


noon.

CHLORIS.

Browze on, my goats; for I'll be with you


soon.
DAPHNIS.

Feed well, my bulls, to whet your


appetite,
That each may take a lusty leap at night.

CHLORIS.

What do you mean, uncivil as you are,


To touch my breasts, and leave my bosom
bare?

DAPHNIS.

These pretty bubbies, first, I make my own.

CHLORIS.

Pull out your hand, I swear, or I shall


swoon.
DAPHNIS.

Why does thy ebbing blood forsake thy


face?

CHLORIS.

Throw me at least upon a cleaner place;


My linen ruffled, and my waistcoat soiling—
What, do you think new clothes were made
for spoiling?

DAPHNIS.

I'll lay my lambkins underneath thy back.

CHLORIS.
My head-gear's off; what filthy work you
make!

DAPHNIS.

To Venus, first, I lay these offerings by.

CHLORIS.

Nay, first look round, that nobody be


nigh:
Methinks I hear a whispering in the grove.

DAPHNIS.

The cypress trees are telling tales of love.

CHLORIS.

You tear off all behind me, and before


me;
And I'm as naked as my mother bore me.

DAPHNIS.

I'll buy thee better clothes than these I


tear,
And lie so close I'll cover thee from air.

CHLORIS.

You're liberal now; but when your turn is


sped,
You'll wish me choked with every crust of
bread.
DAPHNIS.
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