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While blooming youth and gay delight
Sit on thy rosy cheeks confess'd, Thou hast, my dear, undoubted right
To triumph o'er this destined breast. My reason bends to what thy eyes ordain, For I was born to love, and thou to reign.
But would you meanly thus rely
power you know I must obey ? Exert a legal tyranny,
And do an ill because you may?
As well as Cupid, Time is blind;
The fate of vulgar beauty find : The thousand Loves that arm thy potent eye, Must drop their quivers, flag their wings, and die.
Then wilt thou sigh, when in each frown
A hateful wrinkle more appears ; And putting peevish humours on, Seems but the sad effect of
years : Kindness itself too weak a charm will
prove, To raise the feeble fires of aged love.
Forced compliments, and formal bows,
Will show thee just above neglect;
Will settle into cold respect.
Then shun the ill, and know, my dear,
Kindness and constancy will prove The only pillars fit to bear
So vast a weight as that of love: If thou canst wish to make my flames endure, Thine must be very fierce, and very pure. Haste, Celia, haste, while youth invites;
Obey kind Cupid's present voice;
And give thy soul a loose to joys:
Be mine, and only mine; take care
Thy looks, thy thoughts, thy dreams, to guide To me alone; nor come so far
As liking any youth beside : What men e’er court thee, fly them, and believe They're serpents all, and thou the tempted Eve.
So shall I court thy dearest truth,
When beauty ceases to engage;
I'll love it o'er again in age:
WHILE from our looks, fair Nymph, you guess
The secret passions of our mind ; My heavy eyes, you say, confess
A heart to love and grief inclined.
To have this fatal secret found;
'Tis certain you may show the wound. How can I see you and not love,
While you, as opening East, are fair? While cold, as northern blasts, you prove,
How can I love and not despair?
Your potent mercy may release :
Fair Prophetess, my grief would cease.
TO A LADY,
SHE REFUSING TO CONTINUE A DISPUTE WITH ME,
AND LEAVING ME IN THE ARGUMENT.
Who did unequal war pursue,
In being overcome by you.
My heart was by my tongue belied, And in my looks you might have read How much I argued on your side.
You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have sustain'd an open fight; For seldom your opinions err;
Your eyes are always in the right. Why, fair-one, would you not rely
On Reason's force with Beauty's join'd? Could I their prevalence deny,
I must at once be deaf and blind.
I only to the fight aspired :
Was all the glory I desired.
Contemns the wreath too long delay'd, And, arm’d with more immediate power,
Calls cruel silence to her aid. Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight;
She drops her arms, to gain the field; Secures her conquest by her flight,
And triumphs, when she seems to yield. So when the Parthian turn'd his steed, And from the hostile
withdrew, With cruel skill the backward reed
He sent; and, as he fled, he slew.
The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrow'd name; Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
But Chloe, is my real flame.
My softest verse, my darling lyre,
Upon Euphelia's toilet lay, When Chloe noted her desire
That I should sing, that I should play.
But with my numbers mix my sighs;
soul on Chloe's eyes.
I sung and gazed; I play'd and trembled : And Venus, to the Loves around,
Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.
PRESENTED TO THE KING,
ON HIS MAJESTY'S ARRIVAL IN HOLLAND, AFTER THE
QUEEN'S DEATH, 1695.
Qais desiderio sit pador, aut modus
At Mary's tomb (sad, sacred place !)
The Virtues shall their vigils keep; And every Muse, and every Grace,
In solemn state shall ever weep.
Oft as the rolling years return,
Shall visit her distinguish'd urn.