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TO A COQUETTE BEAUTY.

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From wars and plagues come no such harms
As from a nymph so full of charms;
So much sweetness in her face,
In her motions 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 Naves, while she is free;
Free, alas! from all desire,
Except to set the world on fire.

Thou, fair Dissembler! doft but thus :
Deceive thyself as well as us.
Like a restless monarch, 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?

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Why such soft alluring arts
To charm our eyes and melt our hearts?
By our loss you nothing gain;
Unless you love you pleafe in vain.

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TO A LADY,

RETIRING INTO A MONASTERY.

Wat breast but your's can hold the double fire
Of fierce devotion and of fond defire?
Love would shine forth were not your zeal fo bright,
Whose glaring flames eclipse his gentler light :
Less feems the faith that mountains can remove, 5
Than this which triumphs over youth and love.

But shall some threat'ning priest divide us two??
What worse than that could all his curses do?
Thus with a fright fome have refign'd their breath,
And poorly dy'd, only for fear of death.

Heav'n fees our patfions with indulgence still, And they who lov'd well can do nothing ill. While to us nothing but ourselves is dear, Should the world frown, yet what have we to fear? 14 Fame, wealth, and pow'r, those high-priz'd gifts of The low concerns of a less happy state, [Fate, Are far beneath us: Fortune's self may take Her aim at us, yet no impression make :

IO

Let worldlings ask her help or fear her harms,
We can lie fafe, lock'd in each other's arms,
Like the bless'd faints, eternal raptures know,
And flight those storms that vainly rest below.

Yet this, all this, you are resolv'd to quit ;
I see my ruin, and I must submit:
But think, think! before you prove unkind, 25
How loft a wretch you leave forlorn behind.

Malignant envy, mix'd with hate and fear, Revenge for wrongs too burdenfome to bear, Ev'n zeal itself, from whence all mifchiefs fpring, Have never done so barbarous a thing.

30 With such a fate the heav'ns decreed to vex Armida once, tho' of the fairer sex: Rinaldo she had charm'd with so much art, Her's was his pow'r, his perfon, and his heart : Honour'shigh thoughts nomore his mind could move, She footh'd his tage, and turn'd it all to love; 36 When straight a gust of fierce devotion blows, And in a moment all her joys o'erthrows : The poor Armida tears her golden hair, Matchless till now for love or for despair. 40 Who is not mov'd while the fad nymph complains? Yet you now act what Tafso only feigns; And after all our vows, our fighs, our tears, My banish'd sorrows, and your conquer'd fears, So many doubts, so many dangers, past, Visions of zeal must vanquish me at last.

Thus in great Homer's war throughout the field Some hero still made all things mortal yield; But when a god once took the vanquish'd fide, The weak prevaild, and the vidorious dy'd. 50

To One'who accused him of being too fenfual in bis Love.

Think not, my Fair!'t is fin or shame
To bless the man who so adores,
Nor give so hard unjust a name
To all those favours he implores.
Beauty is Heav'n's most bounteous gift esteemid,
Because by love men are from vice redeem'd.

&

Yet wish not vainly for a love
From all the force of nature clear;
That is referv'd for those above,
And 't is a fault to claim it here.
For sensual joys ye scorn that we should love ye,
But love without them is as much above ye.

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SONG I. INCONSTANCY EXCUSED,

I must confess I am untrue
To Gloriana's eyes,
But he that 's smil'd upon by you
Muft all the world despise.

In winter fires of little worth
Excite our dull desirę,
But when the sun breaks kindly forth
Those fainter flameq expire.

Then blame me not for Nighting now
What I did once adore;
O! do but this one change allow,
And I can change no more:

Fix'd by your neves-failing charme,
Till I with age decay,
Till languishing within your arms,
I sigh my soul away.

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