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P Q R M $. Who dies because he mus too justly prize

What yet the dull poffeffor does despise.

READY to throw me at the feet
Thus precious jeweli among Indians grow,
Who nor their use, nor wondrous value know;

Of that fair nymph whom I adore,
But we for those bright treasures tempe the main,

Impatient those delights to meet And hazard life for what the fools disdain.

Which I enjoy'd the night before ;

By her wonted scorpful brow,

Soon the fond mistake I find;
Ixion mourn'd his error so,

When Juno's form the cloud rclign'd.


Sleep, to make its charms more priz'd

Than waking joys, which most prevail,
Had cunningly itself disguis'd

In a shape that could not fail.

There my Celia's snowy arms,

Breasts, and other parts more dear,
Exposing new and unknowo charms,

To ny transported' soul appear.

FAIREST, if time and absence can incline
Your heart to wandering thoughts no more than

Then shall my hand, as changeless as my mind,
From your glad eyes a kindly welcome find;
Then, while this note my conttancy assures,
You'll be almost as pleas'd, as I with yours.
And trust me, when I feel that kind relief,
Absence itself awhile suspends its grief :

it do with you, but strait return;
For it were crucl not sometimes to niourn
His fate, who this long time he keeps away,
Mourns all the night, and fighs out all the day;
Grieving yet more, when he reflects that you
Must not be happy, or must not be true.
But lince to me it seems a blacker fate
To be inconstant, than unfortunate;
Remember all those vows between us past,
When I from all I value parted last;
May you alike with kind impatience burn,
And something miss, till I with joy return;
And soon may pitying heaven that blefling give,
As in the hopes of that alone I live.

Then you so much kindness show,

My despair deluded flies;
And indulgent dreams bestow

What your cruelty denies.

Blush not that your image love

Naked to my fancy brought;
'Tis hard, methinks, to disapprove

The joys I fecl without your fault.

Wonder not a fancy'd bliss

Can such griefs as mine remove;
That honour as fantastic is,

Which makes you fight such constant love.

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Who dream of women's love and truth,

Now, all ye wiser thoughts, away,
And doat upon your dreams :

In vain your cale ye tell

Of patient hopes, and dull delay,
I should not here your fancy take

Love's foppish part; farewell.
From such a pleasing state,
Were you not sure at last to wake,

Suppose one week's delay would give
And find your fault too late.

All that my wishes move;

Oh, who so long a time can live,
Then learn betimes, the love which crowns

Stretch'd on the rack of love?
Our cares is all but wiles,
Compos'd of false fantastic frowns,

Her soul perhaps is too sublime,
And soft difsembling sinjles.

To like such flavish fear;

Discretion, prudence, all is crime,
With anger, which sometimes they feig4,

If once condemp'd by her.
They cruel tyrants prove;
And then turn flatterers again,

When honour does the soldier call
With as affected love.

To fome unequal fight,

Resolv'd to conquer, or to fall,
As if some injury was meant

Before his general's fight;
To those they kindly us'd,
Those lovers are the most content

Advanc'd the happy hero lives;
That have been still refus'd.

Or if ill fate denies,

The poble rashness heaven forgives,
Since each has in his bosom nurst

And gloriously he dies.
A false and fawning foe,
Tis just and wise, by striking first,
To 'scape the fatal blow.


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Yet, If I could humbly show her,

Ah! how wretched I remain : 'Tis not, sure, a thing below her,

Still to pity so much pain. The gods some pleasure, pleasure take, Happy as themselves to make Thofe who suffer for their fake.


Since your hand alone was given

To a wretch not worth your care; Like fome angel fent from heaven,

Come, and raise me from despair, Your heart I cannot, cannot miss, And I delire no other bliss; Let all the world besides be his.



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SURŁ I of all men am the first
That ever was by kindness curst,
Who must my only bliss bemoan,
And am by happiness undone.

Had I at distance only seen
That lovely face, I might have been
With the delightful object pleas'd,
But not with all this passion feiz'd.

When afterwards so near I came
As to be scorch'd in beauty's flame;
To so much foftness, so much sense,
Reason itself made do defence.

What pleasing thoughts poffefs'd my mind,
When little favours show'd you kind !
And though, when coldness oft' prevailid,
My heart would link, and spirits fail'd,
Yet willingly the yoke I bore,
And all your chains as bracelets wore :
At your lov'd feet all day would lie,
Deliring, without knowing why;
For, not yet bleft within your arms,
Who could have thought of half your charms?
Charms of such a wondrous kind,
Words we cannot, must not find,
A body worthy of your mind.
Fancy could ne'er so high reflect,
Nor love itself such joys expecte,

After such embraces past,
Whofe memory will ever last,
Love is still reflecting back;
All my soul is on a rack:
To be in hell's sufficient curfe,
But to fall from heaven is worse.
I liv'd in grief ere this I knew,
But then I dwelt in darkness too.
of gains, alas! I could not boast;
But little thought how much I loft.

Now heart-devouring eagerness,
And sharp impatience to poffess;
Now reftless cares, consuming fires,
Anxious thoughts, and fierce defires,
Tear my heart to that degrce,
For ever fix'd on only thee:
Then all my comfort is, I shall
Live in thy arms, or not at all.


Yet while I languish so,

And on thee vainly call; Take head, fair cause of all my woe,

What fate may thee befall. Ungrateful, cruel faults

Suit not thy gentle sex; Hereafter, how will guilty thoughts

Thy tender conscience vex!


When welcome death shall bring

Relief to wretched me, My soul enlarg’d, and once on wing,

in haste will fly to thee.

When in thy lonely bed

My ghost its moan shall make, With saddest signs that I am dead,

And dead for thy dear fake;

Struck with that conscious blow,

Thy very foul will start : Pale as my shadow thou wilt grow,

And cold as is thy heart.



Too late remorse will then

Untinely pity show To him, who, of all mortal men,

Did most thy value know.

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Yet, with this broken heart,

I wish chou never be Tormented with the thousandth part

Of what I feel for thee.

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. "Tis the most tender part of love,

By our lors you nothing gain? Each other to forgive.

Unless you love, you please in vain.

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SIGhing and languishing I lay,

A stranger grown to all delight, Passing with tedious thoughts the day,

And with unquiet dreams the night.

For your dear fake, my only care

Was how my fatal love to hide;
For ever drooping with despair,

Neglecling all the world beside :

Till, like fome angel from above,

Cornelia came to my relief;
And then I found the joys of love

Can make amends for all the grief,

FROM wars and plagues come no such harms,
As from a nymph fo full of charms,
So much sweetness'in her face,
In her notions such a grace,
In her kind inviting eyes
Such a soft enchantment lies;
That we please ourselves too soon,
And are with empty hopes undone.

After all her softness, we
Are but flaves, while she is free;
Free, alas! from all desire,
Except to set the world on fire,

Thou, fair difsembler, dost but thus
Deceive thyself, as well as us.
Like a restless modarch, thou
Wouldīt rather force mankind to bow,
And venture round the world to roam,
Than govern peaceably at home.
But trust me, Celia, trust me when
Apollo's self inspires my pen,
One hour of love's delight outweighs
Whole years of universal praise;
And one adorer, kindly us’d,
Gives truer joys than crowds refus'd.
For what does youth and beauty serve ?
Why more than all your sex deserve ?
Why such soft alluring arts
To charm our eyes and melt our hearts?

Those plcasing hopes I now pursue

Might fail if you could prove unjust; But promises from heaven and you,

Who is so impious to mistrust?

Here all my doubts and troubles end,

One tender word my soul afsures;
Nor am I vain, since I depend

Not on my own desert, but yours.

DEJECTED, as true converts dic,

But yet with fervent thoughts inflam'de




353 šo, Fairest! at your feet I lie,

What are words in such a cife? Of all my lex's faulis alham'd.

What is paint to such a face?

How should either art avail us? Too long, alas! have I abus'd

Fancy here itse!f niuít fail us. Love's innocent and facred flame,

In her look“, aod in her nien, And that divineít power have us'd

Such a graccful air is seen, To laugh at, as an idle name.

That if you, with all your art,

Can but reach the smallest part; But since fo freely I confess

Next to her, the matchtefr the, A crime which niay your scorn produce,


We thall wonder malt at thee. Allow me now to make it less

Then her neck, and breasts, and hair, By any just and fair excuse.

And her - but my charming fair

Does in a thousand things excel, I then did vulgar joys pursue,

Which I must not, dare not cell. Variety was all my bliss;

How go on then? Oh! I lec But ignorant of love and you,

A lovely Venus drawn by thee; How could I.choose but do amiss ?

Oh how fair she does appear! if

Touch it only here and there. ever now my wandering eyes

Make her yei seem more divine,
Seck out amusements as before ;
If c'er I look, but to defpife

Your Venus then may look like mine,
Such charms, and value yours the more;

Khofe bright form if once you saw,

You by her would Venus draw. May fad remorse, and guilty shame,

Revenge your wrongs on faithless me; And, what I trenible even to tame,

May I lofc all in losing thee!

YEAR 1683.


In such a cause no muse should fail

To bear a mournful part; 'Tis just and noble to bewail

The fate of fall'n defcrt.

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Trou flatterér of all the fair,
Come with all your skill and care ;
Draw mie such a thape and face,
As your flattery would disgrace.
With not that she would appear,
'Tis well for jou she is not here;
Scarce can you with safery see
All her charms describ'd by me:
1, alas ! he danger know,
I, alas! have felt che blow;
Mourn, as loft, my former days,
That never föng of Celia's praise ;
And those few that are bebind
I fall blest or wretched fiod,
Only just as she is kind.

With her tempting eyes begin,
Eyes that would draw angels in
To a feci nd fiveeter fin.
Oh, those wanton tolling eyes!
At cach glance a lover dies:
Make them bright, yet make them willing,
Let chem look boh kind and killing.

Next, draw her forehead; then lier nose,
And lips just opening, that disclose
Teeth fo bright, and breath so sweet,
$o inuch beauty, fò much wit,
To our very soul they trike,
All our senses pleas'd alike.

Bat so pure a white and red,
Never, never, can be said:



Sarrer perhaps dull crowds admire;
But I, alas! arn all on fire.
Like him who thought in childhoodi pars
That dirc difcafe which kill'd ac latt,
I durit have tworn Ilv'd before,
and fancy'd all the danger o'er;
Had felt the pangs of jealous pain,
And borne.che blaits of cuid dildain;
Then reap'd at length the mighưy gains
Thac ull reward of all our pains !.

But what was all such grief vir joy,
That did my lieedlels ears employ?

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