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TO A COQUETTE BEAUTY.
From wars and plagues come no such harms
After all her softness, we
Thou, fair Dissembler! doft but thus :
Why such soft alluring arts
TO A LADY,
RETIRING INTO A MONASTERY.
Wat breast but your's can hold the double fire
But shall some threat'ning priest divide us two??
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 :
Let worldlings ask her help or fear her harms,
Yet this, all this, you are resolv'd to quit ;
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
Yet wish not vainly for a love
SONG I. INCONSTANCY EXCUSED,
I must confess I am untrue
In winter fires of little worth
Then blame me not for Nighting now
Fix'd by your neves-failing charme,