Chorus of Youths and Virgins poem – Alexander Pope

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period

Semichorus.

Oh Tyrant Love! hast thou possest

The prudent, learn’d, and virtuous breast?

Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,

And Arts but soften us to feel thy flame.

Love, soft intruder, enters here,

But ent’ring learns to be sincere.

Marcus with blushes owns he loves,

And Brutus tenderly reproves.

Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire,

Which Nature has imprest?

Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire

The mild and gen’rous breast?

Chorus.

Love’s purer flames the Gods approve;

The Gods and Brutus bent to love:

Brutus for absent Portia sighs,

And sterner Cassius melts at Junia’s eyes.

What is loose love? a transient gust,

Spent in a sudden storm of lust,

A vapour fed from wild desire,

A wand’ring, self-consuming fire,

But Hymen’s kinder flames unite;

And burn for ever one;

Chaste as cold Cynthia’s virgin light,

Productive as the Sun.

Semichorus.

Oh source of ev’ry social tie,

United wish, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As son, as father, brother husband, friend?

Whether his hoary sire he spies,

While thousand grateful thoughts arise;

Or meets his spouse’s fonder eye;

Or views his smiling progeny;

What tender passions take their turns,

What home-felt raptures move?

His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,

With rev’rence, hope, and love.

Chorus.

Hence guilty joys, distastes, surmises,

Hence false tears, deceits, disguises,

Dangers, doubts, delays, surprises;

Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine

Purest love’s unwasting treasure,

Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure,

Days of ease, and nights of pleasure;

Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

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• When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I read the Book. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I peruse the Conquer’d Fame. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I heard the Learn’d Astronomer. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• When I heard at the Close of the Day. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What think You I take my Pen in Hand? by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What Place is Besieged? by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What General has a Good Army. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What Best I See In Thee. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• What am I, After All? by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• We Two—How Long We were Fool’d. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• We Two Boys Together Clinging. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Visor’d. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Turn, O Libertad. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To You. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To Thee, Old Cause! by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To the Garden the World. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To One Shortly to Die. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• To Him that was Crucified. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman

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