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While thus I fuffer not my self to lose
The memory of what augments my woes :
But with my own breath ftill foment the fire,
Which flames as high as fancy can aspire !
This last complaint th' indulgent ears did pierce
Of just APOLLO, president of verfe;
Highly concerned that the Mufe should bring
Damage to one, whom he had taught to fing;
Thus he advis'd me :
“ On yon aged tree
Hang up thy lute, and hie thee to the sea;
“ That there with wonders thy diverted mind
“ Some truce at least may with this paffion find."
Ah cruel Nymph! from whom her humble swain
Flies for relief unto the raging Main ;
And from the winds, and tempefts, does expect
A milder fate, than from her cold neglect !
Yet there he'll pray, that the unkind may prove
Bleft in her choice; and vows this endless love
Springs from no hope of what she can confer,
But from those gifts which heav'n has heap'd on her.
To my young Lady LUCY SIDNEY.
HY came I
Into a world, which, wanting thee,
Could entertain us with no worth,
Or shadow of felicity ?
That time should me so far remove
From that which I was born to love !
Yet, fairest blossom! do not slight
you may know so foon: The rosy morn resigns her light,
And milder glory, to the noon: And then what wonders shall you do, Whose dawning beauty warms us fo?
Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime;
And summer, though it be less gay,
Yet is not look'd on as a time
Of declination, or decay :
For, with a full hand, that does bring
All that was promis'd by the spring.
AIR! that you may truly know
What you unto THYRSIS Owe;
I will tell you how I do
SACHARIS SA love, and You.
Joy falutes me, when I set
My bleft eyes on Amorer:
But with wonder I am strook,
While I on the other look.
If sweet AMORET complains,
I have sense of all her pains:
But for SACHARISSA I
Do not only grieve, but die.
All that of myfelf is mine,
Lovely AMORET! is thine,
SACHARIS SA's captive fain
Would untie his iron chain;
And, those scorching beams to fhun,
To thy gentle shadow run.
If the soul had free election
To dispose of her affection ;
I would not thus long have born
Haughty SACHARIS SA's fcorn:
But 'tis fure some Pow'r above,
Which controuls our wills in love !
If not love, a strong desire
To create and spread that fire
In my breast, sollicites me,
Beauteous AMORET!. for thee.
'Tis amazement more than love,
Which her radiant eyes do move :
If less splendor wait on thine,
Yet they fo benignly shine,
I would turn my dazled fight
To behold their milder light.
But as hard 'tis to destroy
That high flame, as to enjoy :
Which how eas'ly I may do,
Heav'n (as eas’ly scald) does know!
AMORET! as sweet and good
As the most delicious food,
Which, but tasted, does impart
Life and gladness to the heart.
SACHARI S SA's beauty's wine,
Which to madness doth incline :
Such a liquor, as no brain
That is mortal can sustain.
Scarce can I to heav'n excuse
The devotion, which I use
Unto that adored dame:
For 'tis not unlike the same,
Which I thither ought to fend.
So that if it could take end,
'Twould to heav'n it self be due
To succeed her, and not you:
Who already have of me
All that's not idolatry:
Which, though not fo fierce a flame,
Is longer like to be the same.
Then smile on me, and I will prove,
Wonder is shorter-liv'd than love,
On the Friendhip betwixt SACHARI S S A
and AMOR E T.
ELL me, lovely loving Pair !
Why so kind, and so severe ?
Why so careless of our care,
Only to your felves fo dear?
By this cunning change of hearts,
You the pow'r of Love controul ;
While the boy's deluded darts
Can arrive at neither soul.
For in vain to either breast
Still beguiled Love does come: Where he finds a foreign guest;
Neither of your hearts at home.
Debtors thus with like design,
When they never mean to pay,
That they may the law decline,
To some friend make all away.
MORET, the Milky Way,
Fram'd of many nameless stars!
The smooth stream, where none can say,
He this drop to that prefers !
AMORET, my lovely foe!
Tell me where thy strength does lye?
Where the pow'r that charms us fo?
In thy soul, or in thy eye?
By that snowy neck alone;
Or thy grace in motion seen;
No such wonders cou'd be done :
Yet thy waist is straight, and clean,