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my wishes

A heart by kindness only gain'd,

Will a dear conquest prove;

And, to be kept, must be maintain'd

At vast expense of love.
Tuink not, my fair, 'tis sin or shame,

To bless the man who so adores ;
Nor give so hard, unjust a name
To all those favours he implores,

Beauty is Heaven's most bounteous gift esteem'd,

Oh, how I languish! what a strange Because by love men are from vice redeem'd.

Unruly fierce desire ! Yet wish not vainly for a love

My spirits feel some wondrous change, From all the force of nature clear;

My heart is all on Gre,
That is reserv'd for those above,
And 'tis a fault to claim it here.

Now, all ye wiser thoughts, away,
For sensual joys ye scorn that we should love

In vain your tale ye tell But love, without them, is as much above ye.

Of patient hopes, and dull delay,

Love's foppish part; farewell. Suppose one week's delay would give All that


Who, who so long a time can live, Lovers, who waste your thoughts and youth

Stretch'd on the rack of Love? In passion's fond extremes,

Her soul, perhaps, is too sublime, Who Iream of women's love and truth,

To like such slavish fear; And doat upon your dreams :

Discretion, prudence, all is criine, I should not here your fancy take

If once condemn'd by her. From such a pleasing state,

When honour does the soldier call Were you not sure at last to wake,

To some unequal fight, And find your fault too late.

Resolv'd to conquer, or to fall, Then learn, betimes, the love which crowns

Before his general's sight; Our cares is all but wiles,

Advanc'd the happy hero lives; Compos'd of false fantastic frowns,

Or, if ill Fate denies, And soft dissembling smiles.

The noble rashness Heaven forgives, With anger, which sometimes they feign,

And gloriously he dies.
They cruel tyrants prove;
And then turn fatterers again,
With as affected love,

INCONSTANCY EXCUSED. As if some injury was meant

To those they kindly us’d,
Those lovers are the most content

I Must confess, I am untrue
That have been still refus'd.

To Gloriana's eyes ;

But he that's smild upon by you,
Since each has in his bosom nurst

Must all the world despise,
Å false and fawning foe,
Tis just and wise, by striking first,

In winter, fires of little worth
To 'scape the fatal blow.

Excite our dull desire;
But when the Sun breaks kindly forth,

Those fainter flames expire.

Then blame me not for slighting now TO AMORETTA.

What I did once adore; When I held out against your eyes,

0, do but this one change allow, You took the surest course

And I can change no more: A heart unwary to surprise,

Fixt by your never-failing charms, You ne'er could take by force,

Till I with age decay, However, though I strive no more,

Till languishing within your arms, The fort will now be priz'd,

I sigh my soul away. Which, if surrender'd up before,

Perhaps had been despis'd. Bat, gentle Amoretta, though

SONG, I cannot love resist,

Ou, conceal that charming creature Think not, when you have caught me so,

From my wondering, wishing eyes! To use me as you list.

Every motion, every feature, Inconstancy or coldness will

Does some ravish'd heart surprise; My foolish heast reclaim:

But, oh! I sighing, sighing, see Then I come off with honour still,

The happy swain! she ne'er can be But you, alas! with shame.

False to hin, or kind to me.

Yet, if I could humbly show her,

Had I at distance only seen Ah' how wretched I remain;

That lovely face, I might have been 'Tis not, sure a thing below her,

With the delightful object pleas'd, Still to pity so much pain.

But not with all this passion seiz'd. The gods some pleasure, pleasure take,

When afterwards so near I came Happy as themselves to make

As to be scorch'd in Beauty's flame; Those who suffer for their sake.

To so much softness, so much sense, ,

Reason itself made no defence. Since your hand alone was given

What pleasing thoughts possess'd my mind, To a wretch not worth your care ;

When little favours showd you kind! Like some angel sent from Heaven,

And though, when coldness oft prevailid, Come, and raise me from despair.

My heart would sink, and spirits failid, Your heart I cannot, cannot miss,

Yet willingly the yoke I bore, And I desire no other bliss;

And all your chains as bracelets wore :
Let all the world besides be his.

At your lov'd feet all day would lie,
Desiring, without knowing why;
For, not yet blest within your arms,

Who could have thought of half your cbarms?

Charms of such a wondrous kind, All hopeless of relief,

Words we cannot, must not find, Incapable of rest,

A body worthy of your mind. In vain I'strive to vent a grief

Fancy could ne'er so high reflect, That's not to be exprest.

Nor love itself such joys expect.

After such embraces past, This rage within my veins

Whose memory will ever last, No reason can remove;

Love is still reflecting back ; Of all the mind's most cruel pains,

All my soul is on a rack : The sharpest, sure, is love.

To be in Hell's sufficient curse, Yet while I languish so,

But to fall from Heaven is worse. And on thee vainly call;

I liv'd in grief ere this I knew, Take heed, fair cause of all my woe,

But then I dwelt in darkness too. What fate may thee befall.

Of gains alas ! I could not boast;

But little thought how much I lost. Ungrateful, cruel faults

Now heart-devouring eagerness, Suit not thy gentle sex ;

And sharp impatience to possess ; Hereafter, how will guilty thoughts

Now restless cares, consuming fires, Thy tender conscience vex!

Anxious thoughts, and fierce desires, When welcome Death shall bring

Tear my heart to that degree, Relief to wretched me,

For ever fix'd on only thee: My soul enlarg'd, and once on wing,

Then all my comfort is, I shall In haste will fly to thee.

Live in thy arins, or not at all. When in thy lonely bed

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

And dead for thy dear sake;
Struck with that conscious blow,
Thy very soul will start:

Come, let us now resolve at last
Pale as my shadow thou wilt grow,

To live and love in quiet ; And cold as is thy heart.

We'll tie the knot so very fast,

That Time shall ne'er untie it.
Too late remorse will then
Untimely pity show

The truest joys they seldom prove,
To him, who, of all mortal men,

Who free from quarrels live; Did most thy value know.

'Tis the most tender part of love,

Each other to forgive. Yet, with this broken heart,

When least I secm'd concern'd, I took I wish thou never be

No pleasure, por no rest; Tormented with the thousandth part

And when I feign'd an angry look,
Of what I feel for thee.

Alas ! I loy'd you best.
Own but the same to me, you'll find

How blest will be our fate;
ON APPREHENSION OF LOSING Oh, to be happy, to be kind,

Sure never is too late.




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

From all uneasy passions free,
Revenge, ambition, jealousy,

Contented I had been too blest,

If once again my vows displease, If love and you had let me rest :

There never was so lost a lover;
Yet that dull life I now despise;

In love, that languishing disease,
Safe from your eyes,

A sad relapse we ne'er recover.
I fear'd no griet, but then I found no joys.
Amidst a thousand kind desires,
Which Beauty moves, and love inspires ;

Such pangs I feel of tender fear,
Ny heart so soft as mine can bear:

Sighing and languishing I lay,
Yet I'll defy the worst of harns ;

A stranger grown to all deligbt,
Such are your charms,

Passing with tedious thoughts the day, 'Tis worth a life to dic within your arms.

And with unquiet dreams the night.
For your dear sake, my only care

Was how my fatal love to hide;

For ever drooping with despair,

Neglecting all the world beside: Froy wars and plagues come no such harms,

Till, like some angel from above, As from a nymph so full of charms,

Cornelia came to my relief ; So much sweetness in her face,

And then I found the joys of love In her motions such a grace,

Can make amends for all the grief. In her kind inviting eyes Such a soft enchantment lies,

Those pleasing hopes I now pursue That we please ourselves too soon,

Might fail if you could prove unjust; And are with empty hopes undone.

But promises frorn Heaven and you, After all her softness, we

Who is so impious to mistrust? Are but slaves, while she is free;

Here all my doubts and troubles end, Free, alas! from all desire,

One tender word my soul assures ; Except to set the world on fire.

Nor am I vain, since I depend
Thou, fair dissembler, dost but thus

Not on my own desert, but yours.
Deceive thyself, as well as us.
Like a restless monarch, thou
Wouldst rather force mankind to bow,
And venture round the world to roam,

Then govern peaceably at home.
But trust me, Celia, trust me, when

DEJECTED, as true converts die,
Apollo's self inspires my pen,

But yet with fervent thoughts inflam'd, One hour of love's delight outweighs

So, fairest! at your feet I lie, Whole years of universal praise;

Of all my sex's faults asham'd. And one adorer, kindly us'd,

Too long, alas! have I abus'd Gives truer joys than crowds refus'd.

Love's innocent and sacred flame, For what does youth and beauty serve?

And that divinest power have us'd
Why more than all your sex deserve ?

To laugh at, as an idle name.
Wby such soft alluring arts
To charm our eyes, and melt our hearts?

But since so freely I confess
By our loss you nothing gain :

A criine which may your scorn proluce, Unless you love, you please in vain.

Allow me now to make it less

By any just and fair excuse.
I then did vulgar joys pursue,

Variety was all my bliss ;

But ignorant of love and you,
Like children in a starry night,

How could I choose but do amiss ? When I beheld those eyes before,

If ever now my wandering eyes i gaz'd with wonder and delight,

Seek out amusements as before; Insensible of all their power.

If e'er I look, but to despise I play'd about the fame so long,

Such charms, and value yours the more ; At last I felt the scorching fire;

May sad remorse, and guilty shame, My hopes were weak, my passion strong,

Revenge your wrongs on faithless me; And I lay dying with desire.

And, what I tremble even to name,
By all the helps of human art,

May I lose all in losing thee!
I just recover'd so much sense,
As to avoid, with beavy heart,
The fair, but fatal, influence.

But, since you shine away despair,

IN IMITATION OF ANACREON. And now my sighs no longer shun, No Persian in his zealous prayer

Thou flatterer of all the fair, So much adores the rising Sun,

Come with all your skill and care;

Draw me such a shape and face,

If from the glorious height he falls, As your flattery would disgrace.

He greatly daring dies; Wish not that she would appear,

Or mounting where bright beauty calls, 'Tis well for you she is not here:

An empire is the prize.
Scarce can you with safety see
All her charms describ'd by me:
1, alas! the danger know,
I, alas! have felt the blow;

Mourn, as lost, my former days,

Safely perhaps dull crowds admire; That never sung of Celia's praise;

But I, alas! am all on fire. And those few that are behind

Like him who thought in childhood past I shall blest or wretched find,

That dire disease which kill'd at last, Only just as she is kind.

I dwst have sworn I lov'd before, With her tempting eyes begin,

And fancy'd all the danger o'er; Eyes that would draw angels in

Had felt the pangs of jealous pain, To a second sweeter sin.

And borne the blasts of cold disdain; Oh, those wanton rolling eyes!

Then reap'd at length the mighty gains, At each glance a lover dies :

That full reward of all our pains ! Make them bright, yet make them willing,

But what was all such grief or joy,
Let them look both kind and killing.

That did my heedless ears employ?
Next, draw her forehead; then her nose, Mere dreams of feizu'd fantastic powers,
And lips just opening, that disclose

But the disease of idle hours;
Teeth so bright, and breath so sweet,

Amusement, humour, affcctation, So much beauty, so much wit,

Compar'd with this sublimer passion, To our very soul they strike,

Whose raptures, bright as those above, All our senses pleas'd alike.

Outshine the flames of zeal or love. But so pure a white and red,

Yet think not, fairest, what I sing Never, never, can be said :

Can from a love platonic spring, What are words in such a case ?

That formal softness (false and vain) What is paint to such a face?

Not of the heart, but of the brain. How should either art avail us?

Thou art indeed above all nature; Fancy here itself must fail us.

But I, a wretched human creature, In her looks, and in her mien,

Wanting thy gentle generous aid, Such a gracefut air is seen,

Of husband, rivals, friends, afraid! That if you, with all your art,

Amidst all this seraphic tire, Can but reach the smallest part;

Am almost dying with desire, Next to her, the matchless she,

With cager wishes, ardent thoughts, We shall wonder most at thee.

Prone to commit Love's wildest faults! Then her neck, and breasts, and hair,

And (as we are on Sundays told And her--but my charming fair

The lusty patriarch did of old) Does in a thousand things excel,

Would force a blessing from those charms,
Which I must not, dare not tell.

And grasp an angel in my arms.
How go on then? Oh' I see
A lovely Venus drawn by thee;
Oh how fair she does appear!
Touch it only here and there.

Make her yet seem more divine,
Your Venus then may look like mine,


Whose bright form if once you saw,
You by her would Venus draw.

Brigir and blooming as the Spring,

Universal love inspiring;

All our swains thy praises sing,

Ever gazing and admiring.

Praises in so high a strain,

And by such a shepherd sung, In such a cause no Muse should fail

Are enough to make me vain, To bear a mournful part;

Yet so harmless and so young. 'Tis just and noble to bewail The fate of fallin desert.

I should have despair'd amous In vain ambitious bopes design's

Rivals that appear so gaily : To make his soul aspire,

But your eyes have made me young,
If love and beauty had not join'd,

By their smiling on me daily..
To raise a brighter fire.
Ainidst so many dangerous foes

Idle boys admire us blindly,
How weak the wisest prove!

Are inconstant, wild, and bold; Reason itself would scarce oppose,

And your using me so kindly And seems agreed with love.

Is a proof you are not old.










Of all this nothing now remains,
Hith thy pleasing voice and fashion,

But only sighs and endless pains !
With thy humour and thy youth,
Cheer my soul, and crown my passion:
Oh! reward my love and truth.

With thy careful arts to cover

That which fools will count a fault,
Truest friend, as well as lover,

What breast but yours can hold the double fire Oh! deserve so kind a thought.

Of fierce devotion, and of fond desire?

Love would shine forth, were not your zeal so bright, EACH APART FIRST, AND THEN BOTH TOGETHER. Whose glaring tamnes eclipse his gentler light: Happy we shall lie possessing,

Less seems the faith that inountains can remove, Folded in each other's arms,

Than this which triumphs over youth and love. Love and Nature's chiefest blessing

But shall some threatening priest divide us two? In the still increasing charms.

What worse than that could all his curses do? So the dearest joys of loving,

Thus, with a fright, some have resign'd their breath, Which scarce Heaven can go beyond,

And poorly dy'd, only for fear of death. We'll be every day improving,

Heaven see's our passions with indulgence still, And they who lov'd well, can do nothing iil.

While to us nothing but ourselves is dear, You more fair, and I more fond.

Should the world frown, yet what have we to fear?

Fame, wealth, and power, those high-priz'd gifts I more fair, and you more fond.

The low concerns of a less happy state, sof Fate,
Are far beneath us: Fortune's self may take
Her aim at us, yet no impression make;
Let worldlings ask her help, or fear $r harms;
We can lie safe, lock'd in each other's arms,

Like the blest saiats, eternal raptures know,

And slight those storms that vainly rest below. Sove vex their souls with jealous pain,

Yet this, all this, you are resolv'd to quit; While others sigh for cold disdain:

I see my ruin, and I must submit; Love's various slaves we daily see!

But think, O think, before you prove urkind, Yet kappy all, compar'd with me.

How lost a wretch you leave forlorn behind !

Malignant envy, mix'd with hate and fear, Of all mankind, I lov'd the best

Revenge for wrongs too burthensome to bear, A nymph so far above the rest,

E''n zeal itself, from whence all mischiefs spring, That we outshind the blest above,

Have never done so barbarous a thing. In beauty she, and I in love.

With such a fate the Heavens decreed to vex And therefore they who could not bear

Armida once, though of the fairest sex; To be outdone by mortals here,

Rinaldo she had charm'd with so much art, Among themselves have plac'd her now,

Hers was his power, his person, and his heart : And left me wretched here below.

Honour's high thoughts no more his mind could

move; All other fate I could have borne,

She sooth'd his rage, and turn'd it all to love: And ev'n endur'a her very scorn ;

When straight a gust of fierce devotion blows, But, oh! thus all at once to find

And in a moment all her joys o’erthrows : That dread account ! both dead and kind!

The poor Armida tears her golden hair, What heart can hold ! if yet I live,

Matchless, till now, for love or for despair. 'Tis but to show how much I grieve.

Who is not mov'd while the sad nymph complains ?
Yet you now act what Tasso only feigns :

And after all our vows, our sighs, our tears,

My banish'd sorrows, and your conquer'd fears ;

So many doubts, so many dangers past, Come, all ye doleful, dismal cares,

Visions of zeal must vanquish me at last. That ever haunted guilty mind!

Thus, in great Homer's war, throughout the field, The pangs of love when it despairs,

Some hero still made all things mortal yield; And all those stings the jealous find :

But when a god once took the vanquish'd side, Alas! heart-breaking though ye be,

The weak prevail'd, and the victorious dy'd. Yet welcome, welcome all to me! Who now have lost-but, oh! how much?

No language, nothing can express, Except my grief! for she was such,

THE VISION. That praises would but make her less.

WRITTEN DURING A SEA VOYAGE, WHEN SENT TO COM Yet who can ever dare to raise

MAND THE FORCES FOR THE RELIEF OF TANGIER. His voice on her, unless to praise? Free from her sex's smallest faults,


ITHIN the silent shades of soft repose, And fair as womankind can be:

Where Fancy's boundless stream for ever flows; Tender and warm as lover's thoughts,

Where the enfranchis'd soul at ease can play, Yet cold to all the world but me.

Tir'd with the toilsome business of the day;

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