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

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



ET others fongs or fatires write,
L Provoked by Vanity or Spite ;
My Muse a nobler cause shall move,
To sound aloud the praise of Love :

That gentle, yet refiftless 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.

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Oh love, thoù trance divine ! in which
Unclogg'd with wordly cares, may range
And soaring to her heaven, from thence i.
High mysteries, above poor Reason's feeble reach.

To weak old age, Prudence some aid may prove
And curb those appetites that faintly move ;
But wild, impetuous youth is tam'd by nothing less

than love.
Of men too rough for peace, too rude for arts,
Love's power can penetrate the hardest hearts;
And through 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 ;
Maids are too nice, and men as much too loose ;
While equal good an amorous couple find,
She makes him constant, and he makes her kind.

New charms in vain a lover's faith would prove;

Hermits or bed-rid men they ’ll sooner move :
The fair inveigler will but sadly find,
There's no such 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 heaven and earth would our desires confine ;
But yet in vain both heaven and earth combine,
Unless where love blesses the great design.
Hymen makes fast the hand, but love the heart;
He the fool's god, thou nature's Hymen art;



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Whose laws once broke, we are not held by force,
But the falfe 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 fun 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 heaven's great work thy part is such,
That master-like thou giv'st the last great touch.

To heaven's own master-piece of man;
And finishest what Nature but began :
Thy happy stroke can into softness bring
Reason, that rough and wrangling thing.

From childhood upwards we decay, And grow but greater children

every day :
So, reason, how can we be said to rise ?
So 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.

Thou reignest o'er our earthly gods ;
Uncrown'd by thee, their other crowns are loads ;


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One beauty's smile their meanest courtier brings
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 she overcomes her shame,
Forsakes her fortune, and forgets her fame;
Yet, if but with a constant lover bleit,
Thanks heaven for that, and never minds the reft.

Love is the salt of life ; a higher taste
It gives to pleasure, and then makes it last.
Those flighted favours which cold nymphs dispense,
Mere common counters of the sense,
Defective both in metal and in measure,
A lover's fancy coins into a treasure.
How vast the subject! what a boundless store
Of bright ideas, shining all before
The Muses' fighs, forbids me to give o'er !
But the kind god incites us various ways,
And now I find him all my ardour raise,
His precepts to perform, as well as praise.


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lovely slave to a rude husband's will,

By Nature us’d so well, by him so ill !
For all that grief we see your mind endure,
Your glass presents you with a pleasing cure.
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 every-where may see ;
But where can we behold a wife like thee?

While to a tyrant you by fate are ty’d,
By. love you tyrannize o'er all beside :
Those eyes, though weeping, can no pity move;
Worthy our grief ! more worthy of our love!
You, while fo fair (do fortune what she please)
Unless, unsatisfied 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.
If so, alas! for all those charming powers,
Your cafe is just as desperate as ours.
Expect that birds should only fing to you,
And, as you walk, that ev'ry tree should bow;


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