Page images


IGHING and languishing I lay,

I , A stranger grown to all delight, Paffing with tedious thoughts the day,

And with unquiet dreams the night. For

your dear sake, my only care Was how my fatal love to hide; For ever drooping with despair,

Neglecting all the world beside : Till, like some angel from above,

Cornelia came to my relief ; And then I found the joys of love

Can make amends for all the grief. Those pleasing hopes I now pursue

Might fail if you could prove unjuft ; But promises from heaven and you,

Who is so impious to mistrust? Here all my doubts and troubles end,

One tender word my soul assures; Nor am I vain, since I depend

Not on my own desert, but yours.



Of all my

DEJECTED, as true converts die,

But yet with fervent thoughts inflam'd, So, fairest! at your feet I lie,

fex's faults asham'á. Too long, alas ! have I abus'd

Love's innocent and sacred flame, And that divinest power have us'd

To laugh at, as an idle name.

But since fo freely I confess

A crime which may your scorn produce, Allow me now to make it less

By any just and fair excuse: I'then did vulgar joys pursue,

Variety was all my bliss ; But ignorant of love and you,

How could I chuse but do amiss ?

If ever now my wandering eyes

Seek out amusements as before ; If e'er I look, but to despise

Such charms, and value yours the more ; May fad remorse, and guilty shame,

Revenge your wrongs on faithless me; And, what I tremble even to name,

May I lose all in losing thee !





HOU flatterer of all the fair,

Come with all your skill and care;
Draw me such a shape and face,
As your fiattery would disgrace.
With not that she would appear,
'Tis well for you she is not here :
Scarce can you with safety see
All her charms describ’d by me :
I, alas! the danger know,
I, alas ! have felt the blow ;
Mourn, as lost, my former days,
That never fung of Celia's praise ;
And those few that are behind
I shall blest or wretched find,
Only just as she is kind.

With her tempting eyes begin,
Eyes that would draw angels in
To a second sweeter sin.
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 nose,
And lips just opening, that disclose


Teeth fo bright, and breath so sweet,
So much beauty, so much wit,
To our very foul they strike,
All our senfes pleas'd alike.

But so pure a white and red,
Never, never, can be said :
What are words in such a case ;
What is paint to such a face?
How should either art avail us ?
Fancy here itself must fail us.

In her looks, and in her mien,
Such a graceful air is seen,
That if you, with all your art,
Can but reach the smallest part ;
Next to her, the matchless the,
We shall 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 must not, dare not tell.

How go on then? Oh! I see
A lovely Venus drawn by thee;
Oh how fair she does appear !
Touch it only here and there.
Make her yet seem more divine,
Your Venus then may look like mine,
Whose bright form if once you saw,
You by her would Venus draw.


On Don Alonzo's being killed in Portugal, upon

Account of the INFANTA, in the Year 1683.


N such a cause no Muse should fail

To bear a mournful part ; 'Tis just and noble to bewail

The fate of fall'n desert.

In vain ambitious hopes design'd

To make his soul aspire,
If love and beauty had not join'd,

To raise a brighter fire.
Amidst fo many dangerous foes

How weak the wisest prove !
Reason itself would scarce oppose,

And seems 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.



SAFELY perhaps dull crowds admire ;

But I, alas ! am all on fire.
Like him who thought in childhood past
That dire disease which kill'a at last,

I durft

« EelmineJätka »