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And in their place difdainful beauty show;
If thou would'ft not be cruel, make her fo:
And, fomething to abate my deep defpair,
O let her feem less gentle, or less fair.
But I in vain flatter my wounded mind;
Never was nymph fo lovely or so kind :
No cold repulfes my defires fuppreft,
I feldom figh'd, but on Almeria's breast:
Of all the passions which mankind destroy,
I only felt excess of love and joy

Unnumber'd pleasures charm'd my fenfe, and they
Were, as my love, without the least allay.
As pure, alas! but not fo fure to last,

For, like a pleafing dream, they are all past.

From heaven her beauties like fierce lightnings came
Which break through darknefs with a glorious flame ;
Awhile they fhine, awhile our minds amaze,
Our wondering eyes are dazzled with the blaze ;
But thunder follows, whofe refistless rage
None can withstand, and nothing can affuage;
And all that light which those bright flashes gave,
Serves only to conduct us to our grave.

When I had just begun love's joys to taste,
(Those full rewards for fears and dangers past)
A fever feiz'd her, and to nothing brought
The richest work that ever nature wrought.
All things below, alas! uncertain stand;
The firmeft rocks are fix'd upon the fand :
Under this law both kings and kingdoms bend,
And no beginning is without an end.

A facrifice

A facrifice to time, fate dooms to us all,

And at the tyrant's feet we daily fall:

Time, whofe bold hand will bring alike to duft
Mankind, and temples too in which they trust.
Her wafted fpirits now begin to faint,
Yet patience ties her tongue from all complaint,
And in her heart as in a fort remains ;
But yields at laft to her refiftless pains.
Thus while the fever, amorous of his prey,
Through all her veins makes his delightful way,
Her fate's like Semele's; the flames destroy
That beauty they too eagerly enjoy.

Her charming face is in its spring decay'd,
Pale grow the roses, and the lilies fade;
Her skin has loft that luftre which surpass'd
The fun's, and well deferv'd as long to last :
Her
eyes, which us'd to pierce the hardest hearts,
Are now difarm'd of all their flames and darts ;
Those stars now heavily and flowly move;
And fickness triumphs in the throne of love.
The fever every moment more prevails,

Its

rage her body feels, and tongue bewails: She, whofe difdain fo many lovers prove, Sighs now for torment, as they figh for love,

And with loud cries, which rend the neighbouring air,
Wounds my fad heart, and weakens my despair.
Both men and gods I charge now with my lofs,

And, wild with grief, my thoughts each other crofs,
My heart and tongue labour in both extremes,
This fends up humble prayers, while that blafphemes:
C

I afk

I ask their help, whofe malice I defy,

And mingle facrilege with piety.

But, that which must yet more perplex my mind,
To love her truly, I muft feem unkind :
So unconcern'd a face my forrow wears,
I must restrain unruly floods of tears.

My eyes and tongue put on diffembling forms,
I fhew a calmnefs in the midst of storms ;
I seem to hope when all my hopes are gone,
And, almost dead with grief, discover none.
But who can long deceive a loving eye,
Or with dry eyes behold his mistress die?
When paffion had with all its terrors brought
Th' approaching danger nearer to my thought,
Off on a fudden fell the forc'd disguise,
And fhew'd a fighing heart in weeping eyes :
My apprehenfions, now no more confin'd,
Expos'd my forrows, and betray'd my mind.
The fair afflicted foon perceives my tears,
Explains my fighs, and thence concludes
With fad prefages of her hopeless case,
She reads her fate in my dejected face;

my

Then feels my torment, and neglects her own,
While I am fenfible of hers alone;

fears:

Each does the other's burthen kindly bear,
I fear her death, and fhe bewails my fear:
Though thus we fuffer under Fortune's darts,
'Tis only thofe of love which reach our hearts.
Meanwhile the fever mocks at all our fears,
Grows by our fighs, and rages at our tears:

Thofe

Thofe vain effects of our as vain defire,

Like wind and oil, increase the fatal fire.
Almeria then, feeling the deftinies

About to fhut her lips, and close her eyes;
Weeping, in mine, fix'd her fair trembling hand,
And with thefe words I fcarce could understand,
Her paffion in a dying voice express'd

Half, and her fighs, alas! made out the rest.
'Tis paft; this pang --- Nature gives o'er the ftrife;
Thou must thy miftrefs lofe, and I my life.

I die; but, dying thine, the fates may prove
Their conqueft over me, but not my love:
Thy memory, my glory, and my pain,

In fpite of death itself shall still remain.
Dearest Orontes, my hard fate denies,

That hope is the last thing which in us dies:

From my griev'd breaft all thofe foft thoughts are fled,
And love furvives it though my hope is dead;

I yield my life, but keep my paffion yet,
And can all thoughts, but of Orontes, quit.

My flame increases as my ftrength decays;

Death, which puts out the light, the heat will raise :
That still remains, though I from hence remove;
I lose my lover, but I keep my love.

The fighs which fent forth that last tender word,
Up tow'rds the heavens like a bright meteor foar'd;
And the kind nymph, not yet bereft of charms,
Fell cold and breathlefs in her lover's arms.

Goddess, who now my fate haft understood,
Spare but my tears, and freely take my
blood:
C 2

Here

Here let me end the ftory of my cares;
My dismal grief enough the rest declares.
Judge thou by all this mifery display'd,
Whether I ought not to implore thy aid :
Thus to furvive, reproaches on me draws;
Never fad wishes had so just a cause.

Come then, my only hope; in every place
Thou vifiteft, men tremble at thy face,
And fear thy name: once let thy fatal hand
Fall on a fwain that does the blow demand.
Vouchfafe thy dart; I need not one of those,
With which thou dost unwilling kings depofe :
A welcome death the flightest wound can bring,
And free a foul already on her wing.
Without thy aid, most miserable I
Muft ever wish, yet not obtain to die.

ODE ON LOVE.

L

I.

ET others fongs or fatires write,
Provok'd by Vanity or Spite;

My Mufe a nobler caufe fhall move,
To found aloud the praife of Love:

That gentle, yet refiftlefs heat,
Which raises men to all things good and
While other paffions of the mind
To low brutality debafe mankind,
By love we are above ourselves refin’d.

great:

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