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Trov lovely slave to a rụde husband's will,
By Nature us'd so well, by him fo ill!
For all that grief we see your mind endure
Your glass presents you with a pleasing curc.
Those maids you envy for their happier state, $
To have your form would gladly have your fate;
And of like slavery each wife complains,
Without such beauty's help to bear her chains.
Husbands like him we ev'ry-where may fee;
But where can we bchold a wife like thee? IO
While to a tyrant you by Fate are ty'd,
By love you tyrannize o'er all befide.
tho' weeping, can no pity move;
Worthy our grief! more worthy of our love!
You, while so fair, (do Fortune what she please) 15
Can be no more in pain than we at ease;
Unless, unsatisfy'd with all our vows,
Your vain ambition so unbounded grows,
That you repine a husband should escape
'Th'united force of such a face and shape. 20
If so, alas! for all those charning powers
Your case is just as desperate as ours.
Expect that birds should only fing to you,
And, as you walk, that ev'ry tree should bow:
Expect those statues, as you pass, should burn, 25
And that with wonder men should statues turn:
Such beauty is enough to give things life,
But not to make a husband love his wife:
A husband worse than statues or than trees,
Colder than those, less sensible than these. 39
Then from so dull a care your thoughts remove,
And waste not sighs you only owe to love.
Tis pity sighs from such a breast Mould part,
Unless to ease fome doubtful lover's heart,
Who dies because he muft too justly prize 35
What yet the dull poffeffor does despise.
Thus precious jewels aniong 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, 40
Let others songs or satires write,
Provok'd by vanity or spite,
My Muse a nobler cause shall move,
To found aloud the praise of Love,
That gentle yet refistless heat .
Which raises men to all things good and great.
While other passions of the mind
To low brutality debase mankind,
By Love we are above ourselves refin'd.
Oh, Love! thou trance divine! in which the soul, 10
Unclogg'd with worldly cares, may range without
(teach And soaring to her heav'n, from thence inspir'd can High mysteries above poor Reason's feeble reach.
To weak old age prudence fome aid may prove,
And curb those appetites that faintly move; 15
But wild impetuous youth is tam’d by nothing less
Of men too rough for peace, too rude for arts,
Love's pow'r can penetrate the hardest hearts,
And thro’ the closest pores a passage find,
Like that of light, to shine all o'er the mind.
The want of love does both extremes produce,
Mạids are too nice, and men as much too loose;
While equal good an am'rous couple find,
She makes him constant, and he makes her kind.
New charms in vain a lover's faith would prove; 25
Hermits or bed-rid men they'll fooner move:
The fair inveigler will but fadly find
There's no fuch eunuch as a man in love:
But when by his chaste nymph embracid,
(For Love makes all embraces chaste)
Then the transported creature can
Do wonders, and is more than man.
Both heav'n and earth would our defires confine ;
But yet in vain both heav'n and earth combine,
Unless where Love blesses the great design. 35
Hymen makes fast the hand, but Love the heart;
He the fools god, thou Nature's Hymen art,
Whose laws once broke we are not held by force,
But the false breach itself is a divorce.
For love the miser will his gold despise,
The false grow faithful, and the foolish wise;
Cautious the young, and complaisant the old,
The cruel gentle, and the coward bold.
Thou glorious sun within our souls,
Whose influence so much controls!
Ev'n dull and heavy lumps of love,
Quicken’d by thee more lively move;
And if their heads but any substance hold,
Love ripens all that dross into the purest gold:
In Heav'n's great work thy part is fuch, 36
That, master-like, thou giv'st the last great touch
To Heav'n's own masterpiece of man,
And finishest what Nature but began:
Thy happy stroke can into foftness bring
Reason, that rough and wrangling thing. 55
From childhood upwards we decay,
And grow but greater children ev'ry day:
So, Reason, how can we be said to rise ?
many cares attend the being wise,
"Tis rather falling down a precipice.
From sense to reason unimprov'd we move;
We only then advance when reason turns to love.
IV. Thou reigneft o'er our earthly gods; Uncrowh'd by thee their other crowns are loads; One beauty's smile their meanest courtier brings 65 Rather to pity than to envy kings; His fellow flaves he takes them' now to be, Favour'd by love perhaps much less than he. For love the timorous bashful maid Of nothing but denying is afraid;
For love the overcomes her shame,
Farfakes her fortune, and forgets her fame;
Yet if but with a constant lover blest,
Thanks Heav'n for that, and never minds the rest.
Love is the salt of life; a higher taste
It gives to pleasure, and then makes it last.