EJECTED, as true converts die,
But yet with fervent thoughts inflam'd,
So, faireft! at your feet I lie,
Of all my fex's faults afham'd.
Too long, alas! have I abus'd
Love's innocent and facred flame,
And that divineft power have us'd
To laugh at, as an idle name.
But fince fo freely I confefs
A crime which may your fcorn produce, Allow me now to make it lefs
By any just and fair excufe.
I then did vulgar joys pursue,
Variety was all my blifs;
But ignorant of love and you,
How could I chufe but do amifs?
If ever now my wandering eyes
Seek out amusements as before;
If e'er I look, but to defpife
Such charms, and value yours the more;
May fad remorfe, and guilty fhame,
Revenge your wrongs on faithless me;
And, what I tremble even to name,
May I lofe all in lofing thee!
Draw me fuch a shape and face,
As your flattery would difgrace.
Wish not that he would appear,
'Tis well for you she is not here:
Scarce can you with fafety fee
All her charms defcrib'd by me :
I, alas! the danger know,
I, alas! have felt the blow;
Mourn, as loft, my former days,
That never fung of Celia's praise ;
And thofe few that are behind
I fhall bleft or wretched find,
Only just as she is kind.
With her tempting eyes begin,
Eyes that would draw angels in
To a fecond sweeter fin.
Oh, those wanton rolling eyes!
At each glance a lover dies:
Make them bright, yet make them willing,
Let them look both kind and killing.
Next, draw her forehead; then her nofe,
And lips juft opening, that difclofe
Teeth fo bright, and breath so sweet,
So much beauty, so much wit,
To our very foul they strike,
All our fenfes pleas'd alike.
But fo pure a white and red,
Never, never, can be faid:
What are words in fuch a cafe ;
What is paint to fuch a face?
How fhould either art avail us?
Fancy here itself muft fail us.
In her looks, and in her mien,
Such a graceful air is feen,
That if you, with all your art,
Can but reach the smallest part;
Next to her, the matchless she,
We fhall wonder most at thee.
Then her neck, and breasts, and hair,
And her but my charming fair
Does in a thousand things excel,
Which I muft not, dare not tell."
How go on then? Oh! I fee
A lovely Venus drawn by thee;
Oh how fair fhe does appear!
Touch it only here and there.
Make her yet feem more divine,
Your Venus then may look like mine,
Whofe bright form if once you faw,
You by her would Venus draw.
On Don ALONZo's being killed in Portugal, upon Account of the INFANTA, in the Year 1683.
IN fuch a caufe no Muse should fail
To bear a mournful part ;
'Tis juft and noble to bewail
The fate of fall'n defert.
In vain ambitious hopes defign'd
To make his foul afpire,
If love and beauty had not join'd,
To raise a brighter fire.
Amidst so many dangerous foes
How weak the wifeft prove!
Reafon itself would scarce oppofe,
And feems agreed with love.
If from the glorious height he falls,
He greatly daring dies;
Or mounting where bright beauty calls,
An empire is the prize.
AFELY perhaps dull crowds admire;
But I, alas! am all on fire.
Like him who thought in childhood paft That dire difeafe which kill'd at last,
I durft have fworn I lov'd before,
And fancy'd all the danger o'er ;
Had felt the pangs of jealous pain,
And borne the blafts of cold difdain;
Then reap'd at length the mighty gains,
That full reward of all our pains!
But what was all fuch grief or joy,
That did my heedlefs ears employ ?
Mere dreams of feign'd fantaftic powers,
But the difeafe' of idle hours;
Amusement, humour, affectation,
Compar'd with this fublimer paffion,
Whofe raptures, bright as thofe above,
Outshine the flames of zeal or love.
Yet think not, faireft, what I fing,
Can from a love platonic fpring;
That formal foftnefs (falfe and vain)
Not of the heart, but of the brain.
Thou art indeed above all nature;
But I, a wretched human creature,
Wanting thy gentle generous aid,
Of husband, rivals, friends afraid!
Amidst all this feraphic fire,
Am almost dying with defire,
With eager wishes, ardent thoughts,
Prone to commit love's wildeft faults!
And (as we are on Sundays told
The lufty patriarch did of old)
Would force a bleffing from those charms, And grafp an angel in my arms.
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