Sivut kuvina

Who dies because he must too justly prize
What yet the dull poffeffor does despise.
Thus precious jewels among Indians grow,
Who nor their use, nor wondrous value know;
But we for those bright treasures tempt the main,
And hazard life for what the fools disdain.


FAIREST, if time and abfence 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 conftancy affures,
You'll be almost as pleas'd, as I with yours.
And trust me, when I feel that kind relief,
Abfence itself awhile fufpends its grief:
So may it do with you, but strait return;
For it were cruel not sometimes to mourn
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
Muft not be happy, or must not be true.
But fince to me it feems a blacker fate
To be inconftant, than unfortunate;
Remember all thofe vows between us past,
When I from all I value parted last;
May you alike with kind impatience burn,
And fomething mifs, till I with joy return;
And foon may pitying heaven that blefling give,
As in the hopes of that alone I live.


GRAVE fops my envy now beget,
Who did my pity move;
They, by the right of wanting wit,
Are free from cares of love.

Turks honour fools, because they are
By that defect secure
From flavery and toils of war,
Which all the reft endure.

So I, who fuffer cold neglect
And wounds from Celia's eyes,
Begin extremely so refpect

These fools that feems fo wife.

'Tis true, they fondly fer their hearts
On things of no delight;
To pass all day for men of parts,
They pals alone the night.

But Celia never breaks their reft;
Such fervants fhe difdains;

And to the fops are dully bleft,
While I endure her chains.


READY to throw me at the feet
Of that fair nymph whom I adore,
Impatient thofe delights to meet
Which I enjoy'd the night before;

By her wonted fcornful brow,
Soon the fond mistake I find;
Ixion mourn'd his error fo,

When Juno's form the cloud refign'd.

Sleep, to make its charms more priz'd
Than waking joys, which moft 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,
Expofing new and unknown charms,
To my transported foul appear.
Then you fo much kindness show,
My despair deluded flies;
And indulgent dreams beftow
What your cruelty denies.

Blush not that your image love

Naked to my fancy brought; 'Tis hard, methinks, to disapprove The joys I feel without your fault.

Wonder not a fancy'd blifs

Can such griefs as mine remove;

That honour as fantastic is,

Which makes you flight such constant love.

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

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

When afterwards so near I came As to be scorch'd in beauty's flame; To fo much foftness, so much sense, Reason itself made no defence.


What pleafing thoughts poffefs'd my mind.
When little favours fhow'd you kind!
And though, when coldnefs oft' prevail'd,
My heart would fink, and fpirits fail'd,
Yet willingly the yoke I bore,
And all your chains as bracelets wore:
At your lov'd feet all day would lie,
Defiring, without knowing why;
For, not yet bleft within your arms,
Who could have thought of half your charms?
Charms of fuch a wondrous kind,
Words we cannot, must not find,
A body worthy of your mind.
Fancy could ne'er fo high reflect,
Nor love itself such joys expect. ̧
After such embraces past,
Whofe memory will ever laft,
Love is still reflecting back;
All my foul is on a rack:
To be in hell's fufficient 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 poffefs;
Now reftlefs cares, confuming fires,
Anxious thoughts, and fierce defires,
Tear my heart to that degree,
For ever fix'd on only thee:
Then all my comfort is, I fhall
Live in thy arms, or not at all.


COME, let us now refolve at last
To live and love in quiet;
We'll tie the knot so very fast,
That time fhall ne'er untie it.

The trueft joys they feldom prove, Who free from quarrels live;

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FROM wars and plagues come no fuch harms,
As from a nymph fo full of charms,

So much sweetness in her face,
In her motions fuch a grace,
In her kind inviting eyes
Such a foft enchantment lies;
That we please ourselves too soon,
And are with empty hopes undone.
After all her foftnefs, we
Are but flaves, while fhe is free;
Free, alas! from all defire,
Except to fet the world on fire.
Thou, fair diffembler, doft but thus
Deceive thyself, as well as us.
Like a reftlefs monarch, thou
Wouldft rather force mankind to bow,
And venture round the world to roam,
Than govern peaceably at home.
But trust me, Celia, truft me when
Apollo's felf infpires 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 fex deferve?
Why fuch foft alluring arts

To charm our eyes, and melt our hearts?

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Tnov Aatterer of all the fair,

Come with all your skill and care;
Draw me fuch a fhape and face,
As your flattery would disgrace,
With not that she would appear,
Fis well for you fhe is not here;
Scarce can you with fafety fee
All her charms defcrib'd by me:
1, alas! the danger know,
I, alas! have felt the blow;
Mourn, as loft, my former days,
That never fing of Celia's praife;
And thofe few that are behind
I fall bleft or wretched find,
Only just as she is kind.

With her tempting eyes begin,
Eyes that would draw angels in
To a fec nd fweeter fin.

Oh, those wanton rolling eyes!
At each glance a lover dies:

Make them bright, yet make them willing,
Let them look both kind and killing,

Next, draw her forehead; then her nofe,
And lips just opening, that difclofe
Teeth fo bright, and breath so sweet,
So much beauty, so much wit,
To our very foul they ftrike,
All our fenfes pleas'd alike.

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

What are words in fuch a cafe? What is paint to such a face? How should either art avail us? Fancy here itself muft fail us.

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In her looks, and in her mien,
Such a graceful air is seen,
That if you, with all your art,
Can but reach the fmalleft part;
Next to her, the matchlefs-fhe,
We fhall wonder maft at thee.

Then her neck, and breafts, and hair, And her but my charming fair

Does in a thousand things excel,
Which I must not, dare not tell.

How go on then? Oh! I fec
A lovely Venus drawn by thee;
Oh how fair fhe does appear!
Touch it only here and there.
Make her yet feem more divine,..
Your Venus then may look like mine,
Whofe bright form if once you faw,
You by her would Venus draw.


IN fuch a caufe no mufe fhould fail To bear a mournful part;

'Tis juft and noble to bewail The fate of fall'n defert.

In vain ambitious hopes defign'd
Ta make his foul aspire,
If love and beauty had not join'd,
To raise a brighter fire.

Amidt so many dangerous foes
How weak the wifeft prove!
Reason itself would scarce oppose,
And feems agreed with love.

If from the glorious height he falls,
He greatly daring dies;

Or mounting where bright beauty calls,
An empire is the prize.


SAFELY perhaps dull crowds admire;
But I, alas! am all on fire.

Like him who thought in childhood past
That dire difeafe which kill'd at last,
I durit have worn 1 lev'd before,
And fancy'd all the danger o'er;
Had felt the pangs of jealous pain,
And borne the blaits of cold dildain ;
Then eap'd at length the mighty gains,
That full reward of all our pains!·

But what was all fuch grief or joy,
That did my heedlefs ears employ ?

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