Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

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 such 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 seen,
That if you, with all your art,
Can but reach the smallest part;
Next to her, the matchless fhe,
We fhall wonder most at thee.

Then her neck, and breafts, 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 fee,
A lovely VENUs drawn by thee;
Oh how fair fhe 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 faw,
You by her would VENUS draw.

On Don ALONZO's being killed in Portugal, upon account of the INFANTA, in the Year 1683.

I

N fuch a cause no muse should fail
To bear a mournful part;

'Tis just and noble to bewail
The fate of fall'n defert.

In vain ambitious hopes design'd
To make his foul afpire,
If love and beauty had not join'd
To raise a brighter fire.

Amidst so many dang'rous foes

How weak the wifest prove! Reason itself would scarce oppose, 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.

The SURPRIZE.

AFELY perhaps dull crowds admire;
But I, alas! am all on fire.

Like him who thought in childhood past
That dire disease which kill'd at laft,
I durft have fworn I lov'd before,
And fancy'd all the danger o'er;
Had felt the pangs of jealous pain,
And born the blasts of cold disdain ;
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 years employ?
Mere dreams of feign'd fantastick pow'rs,
But the disease of idle hours;
Amusement, humour, affectation,
Compar'd with this fublimer paffion,
Whose raptures, bright as those above,
Outshine the flames of zeal or love.
Yet think not, Fairest, what I fing,
Can from a love Platonick 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 gen'rous aid,
Of husband, rivals, friends afraid!

F

1

Amidst all this feraphick 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 thofe charms,
And grafp an angel in my arms.

A DIALOGUE fung on the Stage between an elderly Shepherd, and a very young Nymph.

SHEP.

BRI

RIGHT and blooming as the Spring,
Univerfal love infpiring!

All our fwains thy praises sing,
Ever gazing and admiring.

NYM. Praifes in fo high a ftrain,

And by fuch a fhepherd fang,
Are enough to make me vain,
Yet fo harmless and so young.

SHEP. I should have despair'd among
Rivals that appear fo gayly:
But your eyes have made me young,
By their smiling on me daily.

NYM. Idle boys admire us blindly,

Are inconftant, wild, and bold;
And your ufing me fo kindly
Is a proof you are not old.

SHEP. With thy pleasing voice and fashion,
With thy humour and thy youth,
Chear my foul, and crown my paffion:

Oh! reward my love and truth.

« AnteriorContinuar »